Harry Potter and the Path of War
by Anduril666
Summary: A year has passed since the Dark Lord's return, and the wizarding world is living in fear. The war that began over 15 years ago is picking up pace again, and Harry must come to terms with both the war and the prophecy before he can end it.
1. Default Chapter

Harry Potter and the path of war  
  
Chapter one: The Programme  
  
Harry Potter lay face down on the cold, freshly-cut grass of number four Privet Drive's front lawn and questioned himself for what felt like the millionth time that summer why the hell he was doing what he was doing. He could have still been in bed, like the rest of Privet Drive's occupants were, enjoying his summer by sleeping in and taking pleasure in the fact that he could get up whenever he wanted to, something he hadn't been able to do for a long time.  
  
But oh no, not Harry Potter. Harry Potter was up with the sun every day, and had been every day since he had returned to Surrey from the boarding school he attended in the highlands of northern Scotland, where he had just finished his fifth year there as a student. And why was he up with the sun every day you ask? Because Harry Potter was a total nutcase.  
  
At least that's what he thought of himself, as he breathed in deep, shuddering gasps on the grass of his front garden, outside his so-called home. But even though he was not a total nutcase, Harry Potter was far from being an ordinary boy, as he was a wizard.  
  
Yes, Harry Potter was a wizard, a wizard who attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a school in the highlands of northern Scotland that taught students how to make things fly instead of how to solve algerbra equations, and how to defy the laws of physics instead of learning them. And as if being a wizard was not strange enough, Harry Potter had to go one step further and not even be considered a normal wizard.  
  
And why was he not considered a normal wizard? Well, there were many reasons for that, and the main reason was because of the thin, lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead, that he had carried since Halloween night of 1981 when, aged one, he had somehow survived a killing curse sent at him from the greatest, most powerful dark sorcerer of all time, Lord Voldemort. When the killing curse had come into contact with Harry, he had somehow repelled it, left only with the scar, instead of dying like he was supposed to. However, Harry's parents, Lily and James Potter, had died in Voldemort's attack, which was why Harry had been left on his Aunt Petunia's (his dead mother's sister) and her husband's doorstep at number four, Privet Drive. While Harry had escaped with only the scar, Lord Voldemort's powers had been destroyed the instant he had failed to kill Harry, and he had been reduced to less than a spirit and consequently he had fled. Nobody understood why this had happened, or why such a powerful dark wizard as Lord Voldemort could not kill a defenceless one-year old baby, and thus Harry Potter became both an enigma and a hero to the wizarding world, an enigma for surviving the killing curse, and a hero for defeating the Dark Lord, which he was credited for.  
  
But at the end of Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts Lord Voldemort had returned from the brink of death where he had been residing ever since his killing curse on Harry had backfired and, with the help of one of his faithful servants, was restored to his body. Harry had witnessed Voldemort's rebirth personally, and it had been Voldemort's plan to kill Harry when he was restored to his body, stronger than before because of using Harry's blood in the ritual required to transfer his essence from his lower-than-a-spirit being into his new body. But, thanks to his luck and determination, Harry escaped before Voldemort could kill him and alerted the Headmaster of Hogwarts Albus Dumbeldore to the fact that the Dark Lord had returned, and with this information, Dumbledore was able to instantly recall the Order of the Phoenix, a secret group that had fought against Lord Voldemort the last time he was in power.  
  
The Ministry of Magic however refused to acknowledge that Voldemort had returned, thus giving him more freedom to carry out his plans, as the only opposition he would face would be from the Order of the Phoenix, who could only do so much. However, after a battle in the Ministry of Magic itself, where Harry had seen his godfather Sirius Black killed, several Death Eaters were caught and the Minister of Magic himself saw Voldemort with his own two eyes in the Ministry of Magic's Atrium, and was thus forced to accept that Voldemort, or you-know-who as most of the wizarding world called him, had indeed returned. A statement was printed in the Daily Prophet, the main newspaper of the wizarding world, that confirmed that this was the truth, and which also confirmed that the Dementors, the guards of the wizard prison Azkaban, had left their posts and were now under Voldemort's control. After this battle, Harry was finally told by Albus Dumbledore the reason Voldemort had tried to kill him as a baby: because of a prophecy that said that Harry was the only one who could defeat Voldemort, that he had power the Dark Lord knows not, and that he was the only one who could vanquish the Dark Lord: in other words, everything depended on him.  
  
And thus Harry Potter's fifth year at Hogwarts ended in war and grief, Harry leaving the school consumed by overbearing thoughts of the meaning of the words of the prophecy, and feelings of death, anger and injustice over Sirius Black's death, but also with a new resolve in his mind, telling him that he was the one that so much depended on, and that he had better make sure he was up to it.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
Harry lifted himself up onto weak, weary legs, took a few shaky steps towards the front door, and promptly fell back to earth again. He groaned inwardly and lay back down on the cool grass, trying to control his breathing, but snapped his head up almost immediately, his eyes quickly scanning all of his surroundings and his right hand reaching towards his midriff where he had his wand concealed, before he regained his senses and drew back his hand.  
  
He had heard a sound from a point to the left of him that gave away the fact that a man was standing there, in front of his Aunt Petunia's large hydrangea bush next to Harry, but oddly enough, all that was in that direction was thin air. And even more oddly, the sound that gave the man away sounded like muffled laughter......  
  
Harry scowled in the direction of the hydrangea bush, where he now knew a man named Remus Lupin was standing, hidden under an Invisibility Cloak, struggling to contain his laughter at the sight of Harry Potter returning from his morning run, dead on his feet. Lupin always escorted Harry on his early morning runs, as Harry had to be with a member of the Order at all times when he ventured outside of number four Privet Drive during the summer, and Lupin was the best choice to escort Harry as, being a werewolf which made him naturally strong and fit, he hardly even broke a sweat no matter how far Harry ran. This annoyed Harry to no end.  
  
"You know, you could at least pretend you were worn out, it'd make me feel a whole lot better," Harry said between breaths, looking in the general area he believed Lupin to be standing. "I tell you, one day I'm going to run so fast you're going to have to get a broomstick to keep up with me, and then we'll see whose fitter, werewolf or not."  
  
"With all due respect Harry," Remus Lupin's voice said, seemingly out of thin air, "that day is a long way off if you continue to be exhausted by running such short distances. Why, we only ran to the shops and back!"  
  
"Only!" squeaked Harry incredulously. "Those shops are three miles away!"  
  
"Still, a run of six miles is hardly what I'd call hard," Lupin went on, sounding serious, but Harry could hear the laughter in his voice now, and he bit back a disbelieving remark about how much of a mental case Lupin was. Even though they left him exhausted and praying for his nice warm bed, Harry's morning runs with Remus Lupin were the best part of his day by far, and he looked forward to them every morning almost as much as he dreaded them. The runs had been awkward and uncomfortable at first, as Harry had not really known Lupin too well when they had started, but now, after two and a half weeks running every morning, they were able to talk and joke freely together, even about things such as Lupin being a werewolf, and Harry felt that he had gained a valuable friend and mentor in Remus Lupin.  
  
But no matter how close Harry had got to Lupin, he knew in his heart that no-one could ever replace Sirius, no matter who it was. Lupin knew it too. Harry still felt as he had in June when he had left Hogwarts, that there was a huge, gaping hole inside of him where Sirius's presence had once resided, telling him that he was there for him and that he wasn't alone. Harry had not spoken to anyone about Sirius since his death, not even Lupin, although he had listened to him speak about Sirius, as he had clearly needed to. Lupin had apologised profusely afterwards, saying that he shouldn't be burdening Harry with his own feelings, but hearing him talk about Sirius the way he had had nearly broken down his own defences, and Lupin had encouraged him to open up and talk about his feelings to him, but he had mastered himself and controlled his emotions, and what a tremendous effort that had been. Harry had not done very well at keeping his emotions in check in the last year, as Ron, Hermione and Albus Dumbledore had found out to their cost, as well as Dolores Umbridge, albeit to Harry's cost.  
  
He knew that it probaly wasn't healthy to ignore the fact that Sirius was dead and gone and wasn't ever coming back, and he knew it was even worse to bottle up all his emotions like he was doing, but he also knew that if he started talking about Sirius, or even thinking about him more than he already was, he would become a total wreck and would probaly sink into depression. No, this blissful ignorance was much nicer, he had decided. He had nearly convinced himself that Sirius was alive and well, stuck inside number twelve, Grimmauld Place, possibly shouting at the portrait of his Mum....  
  
Shaking himself, he hoisted himself off the ground again and found that he could now actually walk, even if he was still a bit wobbly on his feet. Relieved that his morning run to hell was over, he began to hobble towards the front door, beckoning with his hand for Lupin to follow him, when he heard Lupin clear his throat pointedly behind him.  
  
Harry frowned. What was wrong? But then Harry remembered; he had to stretch after going for a run, so he didn't injure his leg muscles in any way. He had found out how to stretch by watching one of his Aunt Petunia's many exercise videos (she had bought a whole box-set of exercise and fitness videos, and had given it up on the first week). After he had stretched, Lupin usually came inside and waited in Harry's room while Harry made breakfast for the Dursleys, himself and, unknown to them, Lupin, whose breakfast he would sneak up to him when the Dursley's backs were turned. His uncle would blow his lid if he ever found out that Harry had been feeding a wizard, a werewolf wizard in fact, breakfast from his house every morning for over two and a half weeks now. Harry was extremely glad that his uncle was oblivious to this, as he couldn't imagine what it would be like if he ever found out. On the other hand, it would be hiliarious to see his face if he ever did tell him. . . .  
  
But then again, perhaps he would merely grit his teeth and say nothing. The Dursleys, following the Order's threat at King's Cross, had not said more than ten words in total to Harry all summer so far, and this was fine by Harry. He continued to cook breakfast for everyone however, so they would not see that five breakfasts were being eaten every morning instead of four.  
  
Harry quickly stretched out, and then pulled out a house key that he had hidden under the door mat, and pushed open the front door, holding it open while he felt Lupin brush past him, faintly hearing him moments later creeping stealthily up the stairs. Harry however walked down the hallway and through the glass pane door into the spotless kitchen, where he made breakfast for Lupin, himself and the Dursley's, who would be down at seven o'clock for their breakfast, ignoring Harry steadily all the while.  
  
After he and Lupin had finished their breakfast and had flicked through the Prophet (which was full of anti-Fudge propaganda and articles on what the Ministry should have done when Voldemort had returned over a year earlier), Harry had a quick shower while Lupin waited, all the while under the Invisibility Cloak, and then together, after a hiliarious distraction by the name of The Quibbler which Lupin had brought over, they set off out the front door for Mrs Figg's house, where Harry was to be spending the day. Lupin had stated this yesterday morning, but had given no indication of why he was spending the day there, just that he was, and that he would find out why when he got there. Harry did not miss the knowing grin on Lupin's face when they were talking about this.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
Fifteen minutes later, Harry and Lupin were walking up the driveway to Mrs Figg's cat-ridden home in Wisteria Walk, Harry anxiously wanting to know why he was here for the day. He had questioned Lupin all the way over, but to no avail. He hoped that this trip was going to be better than his visits here as a small child, and now Harry knew Mrs Figg was a Squib and therefore connected to the magical world, he had some hope that he would be treated better by her, as she no longer had to carry on with her dotty old lady act in front of Harry. Then again, by what Harry had seen of her even after finding out she was a Squib, maybe she genuinely was just a dotty old lady.  
  
Lupin quickly took off his Invisibility Cloak and rapped smartly on the front door, which was immediately opened by Mrs Figg, who ushered them in quickly and slammed the door behind them as soon as Harry's legs were through the opening. She looked flustered and angry.  
  
"About time you two showed up!" she said, starting to shriek at them as she locked numerous bolts and locks on her front door; Muggle locks, Harry noticed, remembering her status as a Squib. "You were supposed to be here TWENTY MINUTES AGO, and no wonder you were late with the pace I saw you walking with, strolling up here like you don't have a care in the world, well news flash kids, you do! I've got enough on my plate without babysitting you two, you were supposed to be here at eight o'clock, is it that hard to get here on time? I have to tell Mundungus Fletcher this every day, now I have to start telling you two as well? And secondly. . . ."  
  
"Arabella! Calm down my dear, sit down, sit down, it's okay now, we're here aren't we? I apologise for our lateness, we were, er, momentarily sidetracked at Harry's home as we ate breakfast," Lupin said, glancing over at Harry for confirmation. Harry nodded his agreement to Lupin's statement, while at the same time trying not to laugh or smile. Their momentary distraction had been a particular funny letter in The Quibbler, from a reader who had decided that Fudge was "about as useful as a broomstick in a coffin", and had come up with an idea to assassinate him while making it look like an accident, which was to transfigure his desk into a half-pig half-lion, and while he fought with the creature, unleash killer bunnies into his office and hoped they did the job. There was no way they could have made this type of death look in any way like an accident, which made the thought of it even more hilarious.  
  
Harry was broken out of his Cornelius Fudge being nibbled to death thoughts by Mrs Figg's deep breathing, whch was coming in gasps, and glancing at her Harry saw that she looked like she had just run a marathon. But she still looked angry with them, and this was confirmed when she started ranting at them again, telling them what terrible people they were and how if she could she'd hex them into the next century. . . .  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
Ten minutes later, with the help of Lupin's soothing words and a cup of very strong tea laced with Firewhisky, Mrs Figg had eventually calmed down and they were all sat in her rather messy kitchen, which still smelt terribly of cabbage just as Harry remembered it had when he was young. In fact, the house looked exactly the same to Harry as it had when he'd come here as a child. There was a very awkward and uncomfortable silence between the three, until Mrs Figg finished her alcohol-laced tea and turned to Harry, giving him a penetrating look. Harry looked back uncertainly.  
  
"Well, I suppose the important thing is that you're safe. You're looking much better than the last time I saw you at any rate, quite suprising actually, considering. . . ." she trailed off. Harry blushed at the compliment, and blocked out the end comment, then looked down. It was true though, he reasoned. The last time Mrs Figg had seen him he had been a short, skinny little thing. Since then he had grown a few inches, and could no longer be called skinny, due to the amount of food he had been eating lately. Evidently running every morning gave you a healthy appetite, and he was thankful that the Dursley's had taken the Order's threat at Kings Cross seriously, as they no longer even batted an eyelid no matter how much he ate.  
  
"Now now Arabella, you're making the poor boy blush," Lupin declared laughingly, clearly enjoying Harry's discomfort. Then his expression turned serious, and he turned to Harry.  
  
"I take it you'd like to know why you're here today then?" he said, pausing for a moment. Harry nodded quickly and motioned for him to continue. "Well, there are a few reasons for this: firstly, the Order believe that having you lounging around that house all day is very unhealthy, both physically and mentally, although your morning runs are helping to compensate for the physical part. Secondly, given the recent situation, the Order feel that you need to learn to defend yourself much more effectively than you can at the moment, particularly in defending your mind. Thirdly, I know from personal experience that being frequently alone while grieving is not wise, and that keeping your mind on something and being around friends and associates helps a great deal. That is why myself, the rest of the Order and Professor Dumbledore have come up with a programme that we wish for you to follow over the duration of the summer, that will consist of you coming here everyday to meet with one of several Order members, who will act as your tutors and teach you a number of various things, including duelling, defence techniques, physical combat, Occlumency of course, and possibly Apparition, if we can arrange it. I'm not making any promises though.  
  
"You are probaly wondering of course how you can be taught all this while not being able to do magic away from Hogwarts? Well that's precisely why this whole programme is going to be situated here at Arabella's house, as she has extremely powerful charms around the house that hide any type of magical activity, so the Ministry will not be able to detect a thing. You must remember however that whenever you leave this house the usual rules apply, and you cannot go around doing magic.  
  
"This programme will only commence however if you agree to it. Professor Dumbledore tells me he has learned from his past mistakes and will never manipulate you again, and will ask you your opinion on every matter that concerns you. So, all that's left to decide is do you agree?"  
  
Harry let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and leaned back in his chair, trying to process everything he'd just been told. The programme seemed like a good idea, and looked like it would require a lot of hard work, but Harry was ready for it. He wouldn't be able to spend so much time on the weights though. While Lupin and the Order thought that Harry had just been "lounging around" number four all summer, he had in fact been taking advantage of Dudley's highly expensive exercise machines, and had been spending a lot of the days performing various exercises, such as sit- ups, press-ups, and on the weights themselves. He spent the most time however on the punchbag, where he could punch out all his anger and frustation, about the prophecy, about the unfairness of it all, about how useless he felt, and of course about Voldemort and his Death Eaters themselves. He was also trying to imagine the punchbag as someone he hated and visualizing beating them to a pulp, most of the time either Draco Malfoy or Bellatrix Lestragne. He usually objected to using physical force on females, but it was not an issue to Harry when dealing with his godfather's murderer. He never visualized beating up Voldemort though; for some reason it did not seem fiitting to fight physically with him.  
  
The exercise had begun to have a positive effect on his body, but not enough yet to have developed into a well-toned torso, so at the moment he looked like a slightly-toned boy whose arm muscles were too big for the rest of his body, and made his arms look stupid as well, as he still had very skinny wrists. I may not be able to do as much working out as I have been doing, but I can still do some. Besides, it would be great to learn all this, and I may get to learn Apparition! Harry thought excitedly. He turned back to the table and to Lupin.  
  
"When do I start?" he asked. Lupin grinned.  
  
"I thought that would be your answer. Well, what's wrong with right now? I'll be one of your tutors anyway, so we can start straight away. I'll be teaching you advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts, the same kind of things they teach you if you take it at the highly-advanced level in seventh year, which I believe nobody has qualified for in the last nine years. You will also be learning spells and curses that individuals usually only learn in Auror training, so I warn you now that this is going to be very difficult, and you may not be able to get the hang of every single spell or curse straight away, some may take all summer for you to master, some most of the year, and some you may never master. But knowing you Harry, I'm sure you'll suprise us all. Still want to do it? Sure? Okay, let's go.  
  
"Now, we'll start you off on a easy one first. The first curse you're going to learn is the Durus curse, which will knock the reciever of the curse flying backwards, much like the disarming charm, which often knocks the reciever flying. If performed correctly, you can knock the reciever back more than ten feet, and can actually control approximately how far back the reciever goes (up to ten feet of course) but this requires much practice and skill, along with a large amount of control over the spell, which takes time to perfect.  
  
"For now you'll just be practicing cursing this box." He waved his wand and conjured a small cardboard box on the table in front of them. "The incantation is Durus Pulsus. You don't have to worry about no fancy wand- waving with this curse, just point your wand at the box and keep it as steady as you can. This curse dosen't vary between the size and weight of things, so if you perfect the curse on this box you could just as easily perform it effectively on a human. Remember when you're doing it to really want the box to be struck, to want it to go flying backwards. Feeling up to it?"  
  
Harry nodded weakly, and shakily got up. This was all happening so fast, he'd barely had time to register what was going on, such as the programme and what it meant, the fact that he could now do magic outside of Hogwarts, and Dumbledore's apology to him, before he was already learning his first curse of the programme. He turned sheepishly to Lupin.  
  
"What's the incantation again?" He asked.  
  
"Durus Pulsus. Remember Harry, I don't expect you to get it perfect first time. Many people have trouble with this one, even though it seems relatively simple. The difficulty in it is the amount of will power it requires; most spells simply require skill, power or knowledge over will. However, this shouldn't be too hard for you, as you seem to have a strong will already, if your past experiences with Imperius are anything to go by."  
  
Harry nodded and turned to the box, standing about a foot from the table. He withdrew his wand from the waistband of his very baggy trousers and leveled it at the box, eyes narrowed in concentration. Remembering Lupin's words, he concentrated on wanting the box to fly backwards, seeing it fly backwards in his mind over and over again, and keeping his wand steady he cried "Durus Pulsus!"  
  
A ray of blue light shot out the tip of his wand and hit the box square on. The box seemed to absorb the curse for a split second before it was shot into the air backwards off the table and went flying through the kitchen door to the sitting room, where the sound of terrified meowing could now be heard. Mrs Figg glared at Harry, and he looked up from the box to Lupin, who was staring at him with his mouth open, an amazed expression on his face.  
  
"Er, brilliant, Harry! That was an amazing effort for a first go, much better than what I expected. We're going to have to work on your control though. . . ."  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
Several hours later, Harry and Lupin stepped out of Mrs Figg's house and on to Wisteria Walk, which was bathed in yellow and red light from the sun's setting rays. Harry blinked into the bright sunshine, not accustomed to it having spent the day in Mrs Figg's dimly-lit house learning curses. As they reached the end of Mrs Figg's driveway, Lupin turned to Harry with a knowing smile on his face.  
  
"Feeling pleased with yourself Harry?" He questioned, knowing full well the answer. Try as he might, Harry hadn't been able to get rid of the feeling of smugness and self-satisfaction he had gained from his first day of "the programme," and he was sure these feelings were showing clearly on his face. Looking back on the day Harry did feel rather pleased with himself and the progress he had made, even if he did feel drained now, which Lupin had explained was because of the amount of magic he had performed during the day, which had sapped lots of his energy. He turned to grin at his friend and mentor.  
  
"Yeah, I am Profess... sorry, Remus, it was a great first day, I thought I was going to do really terrible, if my school work is anything to go by." Harry could not understand how he had done so well at this when at Hogwarts it usually took him a couple of weeks or more to perfect a relatively hard spell. Harry looked at Lupin for an explanation, and found one.  
  
"Ah, yes Harry, but you must remember that the vast majority of spells you learn at school are not based on your will, but more on your skill and knowledge." Harry nodded: that was true. After Harry had broken several wall-mounted photographs and nearly scared Mr Paws to death with the Durus curse, Lupin had concluded that Harry had a talent for will-based spells, and that it would be very easy for him to learn these kind of spells. Indeed, by the time Lupin had called an end to the day's session, Harry had perfected the Durus curse (he could control exactly how far the reciever of the curse flew back, and had left Lupin astounded by being able to knock the reciever back more than ten feet) and had also learned and perfected the Dolens curse, which was very similar to the Durus curse but instead of just knocking the reciever of the curse backwards, it knocked them backwards with the sensation of being punched very hard in the stomach. This curse needed a human target to practice on; needless to say, Lupin had been very happy when Harry had perfected this curse and no longer needed to be used as a target.  
  
Harry fought hard with himself to keep the grin off his face at the memory of perfecting these curses, but failed miserably. To distract himself, he turned to Lupin.  
  
"So what am I going to be doing tomorrow? Are you teaching me again?" He questioned.  
  
"No Harry, you'll be with Tonks tomorrow, doing Concealment and Disguise, but that reminds me, here you go." Lupin reached inside of his shabby trenchcoat and pulled out a folded sheet of parchment. "This is your timetable. It says when your lessons are, what you'll be learning and who'll be teaching you. This parchment has been highly charmed, so when you read the timetable through once, the information will be absorbed into your memory and you can then dispose of the parchment. It is crucial that you dispose of it quickly and efficiently, by tomorrow afternoon at the latest. I suggest you read it as soon as you get home. Now, any more questions?" Lupin enquired. Harry nodded.  
  
"Yes, one; does this programme mean that I can't see Ron and Hermione this summer?" Harry said. When he had agreed to it he hadn't realised what the implications would be, and now he was unsure of doing it if it meant he would be unable to leave Privet Drive all summer. Lupin sighed quietly, and answered his question.  
  
"I'm afraid that no, you will not be able to see Ron and Hermione this summer, or go to Grimmauld Place or the Burrow. It is crucial that this programme commences here, as no other place in Britain has the same kind of magic-disguising wards as Arabella's house does, except for Hogwarts, which is completely out of the question. It is an immensely difficult set of charms and wards to put up, and can take up to three months to set up, so there really is no time to do it somewhere else. I'm sorry you won't be able to see them, I'll try and arrange something for your birthday, but don't hold your breath. Do you still want to continue the programme?"  
  
Harry reluctantly nodded and cast his eyes to the ground. It would be hard not to see his friends all summer, but it was for the best. After all, if this programme kept him alive, it was a sacrifice worth making. It still didn't make it easier to handle though. Suddenly, he realized with a start that he had seen his friends every summer since he had started at Hogwarts. Even though every summer he moaned and moaned about being stuck in Privet Drive, he had always seen his friends in the end. But not this time though, I'm here until September. . . .  
  
He was broken out of his melancholy thoughts by Lupin's hand clapping down on his shoulder. He raised his eyes and saw Lupin looking at him with understanding in his face.  
  
"I know this situation isn't great Harry, but in the long run it is best. I remember how hard it was for me in the summer when I had to go. . . somewhere and I couldn't see your father, Peter, and Si. . . Sirus. Are you ready to talk about that yet Harry?" Lupin enquired hesitantly, his voice going strangely soft. Harry bowed his head and spoke to the ground.  
  
"What's there to talk about Remus?" He said softly, forcing down the emotions and memories that were already fighting their way to the surface. "There's nothing to talk about," he stated shakily.  
  
Harry felt Lupin subtly increase the pressure he had on his shoulder, and when he next spoke it was in more forceful tones.  
  
"You can't keep this inside forever Harry, you're going to have to talk about it eventually."  
  
"There's nothing to talk about," Harry repeated. He was starting to feel angry at Lupin and wished he would just shut up. How could he bring this up now, outside in the middle of the street? He shook his head angrily to get rid of the scene which was playing inside his head, of Sirius singing Christmas carols at Grimmauld Place.  
  
"You're in denial Harry," Lupin's voice said, seemingly from a long way away.  
  
"No, I'm not," Harry responded, becoming angrier by the second. Sirius's head was smiling up at him from the Gryffindor fireplace...  
  
"How do you expect to be able to move on if you won't even accept that Sirius is dead?"  
  
Sirius is dead. Harry lost it.  
  
"BECAUSE I DON'T WANT TO MOVE ON! I DON'T WANT TO ACCEPT THAT HE'S DEAD, AND BESIDES, HOW DO I KNOW THAT HE IS EVEN DEAD? ALL HE DID WAS FALL INTO THAT STUPID VEIL, HE COULD HAVE JUST BEEN TRANSPORTED SOMEWHERE! HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT HE'S DEAD? YOU SEEMED PRETTY SURE AT THE MINISTRY, WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THAT BLOODY VEIL THAT I DON'T? WHAT IS. ."  
  
"Silencio!"  
  
Harry felt the strange sensation of shouting at the top of his lungs but not hearing any sound come out. He tried talking at a normal volume, but that also had no effect. He eventually settled on crossing his arms and glaring at Lupin, his body language (he hoped) demanding an explanation. He noticed that even though Lupin had put a silencing charm on him, he had not drawn his wand. Lupin looked at Harry with anger and disappointment in his face.  
  
"What in Merlin's name do you think you are doing Harry?" He said in a harsh whisper. "Have you forgotten where we are? In the middle of a Muggle street for heaven's sake! Have some wits about you! I know you're hurting, and I'm sorry if you think I'm being too interfering, but there's no need to tell the world! And have you forgotten the fact that I'm supposed to be invisible?"  
  
Harry cowered back, his anger instantly evaporated, to be replaced by shame and stupidity at himself. At Mrs Figg's house, Lupin had placed a charm on the Invisibility Cloak that he and the Order were using when guarding Harry so that no matter who was wearing it, Harry would be able to see them. He had forgotten this, and now realised that while he was ranting and raving at him in the street, Lupin would not be visible to other people's eyes, so it would have seemed that Harry was screaming at a non- existent person. How could I be so stupid! Harry thought angrily to himself. Good way of drawing attention to yourself, Potter, sneered a voice in his head that sounded remarkably like Draco Malfoy. Real smart. . .  
  
Lupin had never before spoken to Harry like that, and the worst part was the disappointment in his eyes. He had never wanted to see such a look directed at him from this man that he now respected so much. He turned away from Lupin, unable to look him in the eye, and instead looked around at the houses of Wisteria Walk, where many windows were now occupied with curious, nosy faces wondering what all the shouting was about. Indeed, one elderly man a few houses away looked like he had just fallen off of his porch rocking chair, and a middle-aged man across the street who had been watering his front lawn was still staring at them open-mouthed, unaware that the hose he was holding was watering his trousers instead of the grass.  
  
"Finite Incantatem!" Lupin quietly muttered out of the corner of his mouth, with a flick of his hand, glancing around to make sure no-one had noticed. Harry made no comment after the charm had been lifted, just stared morosely at the light grey pavement below his feet. Lupin sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his right hand.  
  
"Come on," he said quietly to Harry. "We need to get you back to your house." He left it there and carried on walking, saying nothing more about Sirius or about Harry's idiotic outburst. Harry trailed behind, turning his head briefly to see the man who had been watering his own trousers being shouted at by a woman who was presumably his wife. He didn't seem to have noticed her however, as he was still staring at Harry and Lupin with his mouth open, his trousers now soaked through. He did notice her however when she gave up shouting at him and smacked him hard on the back of his balding head.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
They did not speak for the rest of the way back to Privet Drive. Harry felt unable to say anything to Lupin after his stupidity, and he was still angry with him for being so insensitive and trying to get him to talk about Sirius in the middle of the street; Lupin himself seemed lost in his thoughts. Finally, when they turned a corner and were confronted by the identical red-bricked houses of Privet Drive, Lupin gestured to Harry to step into a side-alley, where they could not be easily seen. He leant comfortably against the wall, and Harry followed and did likewise. Lupin turned to him with a hard look.  
  
"Harry, you really have to start controlling your emotions more, especially in public. Do you realise what the consequences of your little scene a minute ago could have been? If a Death Eater had been spying on you, he could have caused an obscene amount of danger for us. You could have jeopardized both our lives, and I expect it not to happen again. Do I make myself clear?"  
  
Harry mumbled a "yes" and looked at the floor. He was ashamed enough at his stupidity already, he was certainly not about to go and do the same thing again, and he didn't need to be reminded of it. Harry heard Lupin clear his throat and he looked up at him. He had a pained look in his eyes.  
  
"Look Harry, I know this is hard for you, but you need to accept that Sirius is gone, and isn't coming back. I know you don't want to hear this, but it is vital that you understand if you're ever going to properly mourn him and accept his death."  
  
Harry stared hard at the pavement below his feet. He's not dead, the veil just transported him somewhere. He'll come back, he's just stuck somewhere at the moment. . . .  
  
"You're in denial Harry, I can tell. You've convinced yourself that nothing's wrong, that Sirius is alive, that everything is as it was before the battle at the Ministry. Well it's not. Sirius is dead. He died when he fell into the veil. I can't tell you yet how I know this, but I promise you'll find out someday soon. But this is irrelevant. The main point is that Sirius is dead. You need to mourn him Harry, the longer you stay in denial the harder it will be to accept this. I'm sorry you have to hear this, but you need to accept that Sirius is gone, and he isn't coming back."  
  
Harry nodded, sinking down to the alleyway floor. Unbidden tears were streaming down his face, and had been since Lupin had began talking, but he fought back the sobs that were threatening to break through. He had never for as long as he could remember cried in front of another person, and he was not about to start now. Memories of Sirius came flashing through his mind; laughing last summer as Fred and George made a fiasco of dinner at Grimmauld Place, bounding around platform nine and three-quarters as Snuffles, shouting to him at the Ministry when he'd body-binded Dolohov, the suprised look on his face as he fell backwards through the veil. . . .  
  
And now he's gone, Harry realized. He's not coming back.I'm never going to see him again. . .  
  
And then Harry could no longer contain his sobs and broke down, crying like he had by the lake at Hogwarts in June, when it had first hit him that Sirius was dead. He cried for the loss of his godfather, the man who had become a friend, a mentor, and father figure to him. . .  
  
With energy he did not know he had, Harry pulled himself to his feet and ran out of the alleyway and flat out to number four Privet Drive, not looking back once. Lupin did not call after him, and Harry did not see the tears in Lupin's eyes as he watched him go. 


	2. Chapter two: Acceptance

Harry Potter and the path of war  
  
Chapter two: Acceptance  
  
Harry did not sleep that night. Instead he cried, shutting himself in his room, collapsing on his bed and crying, having no shields or barriers to put up to stop the tears fighting their way out.  
  
Why me? He thought, as he sobbed. Why me? Why does all this have to happen to me? Why did my parents have to die, why did Cedric have to die, why did Sirius have to die, who's next? Who's death am I going to be responsible for next? Why did I have to be in that prophecy, why couldn't Neville be the one who has to kill Voldemort? I can't do it, no matter what Professor Dumbledore says, I could never fight like he did at the Ministry, I'm just a useless little kid who can't do anything right. Well, apart from get people killed. . . .  
  
He once again saw Sirius in his mind, laughing and smiling. He looked so happy. . .  
  
I'm so sorry Sirius, I didn't mean for it to happen, I didn't do it on purpose, I'm so sorry, so sorry. . .  
  
He saw Cedric, grinning at him as they prepared to touch the Triwizard cup. As Cedric prepared for his death. . . .  
  
I'm sorry Cedric, I killed you, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry for killing you, I should have been the one to die, it was me he wanted to kill, not you. . . .  
  
He saw his parents, as fifteen year olds in Snape's Pensieve, but then they spoke with older voices; his dad was telling his mum to run while he held Voldemort off, and then his mum was pleading with Voldemort for his, Harry's, life, his mum dying to protect him. . . .  
  
I'm sorry Mum, I'm sorry Dad, you'd still be here if it wasn't for me, if I'd never existed you'd still be alive, I'm sorry, I'm sorry for being a disappointment to you, I'm sorry for being the reason why you died, I'm sorry for everything, so sorry. . . .  
  
He fell to the floor, holding his head in his hands and crying, sobs forcing their way out of him, sounding like they came from the depths of his soul itself. All he could think of was how sorry he was, and all he could see were images of the people whose deaths he was responsible for; his parents, Cedric, Sirius. . . .  
  
More sobs escaped him, stronger this time, making his whole body shake. The images flashed faster as the words of apology continued to invade his thoughts, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. . . .  
  
Images merged together, a green light sped towards Cedric as Sirius fell backwards through the veil, while his parents in their fifteen year old forms waited for death, knowing they were about to die, because of him, Harry. . . .  
  
I'm sorry Cedric, I'm sorry Mum, I'm sorry Dad, I'm sorry Sirius, I'm so, so sorry. . . .  
  
His mind continued to repeat these words as he sunk further and further into blackness, and Harry Potter eventually collapsed on the floor, unconscious.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
White. He could see white above him. He reached out to touch it, but his hand touched nothing but air. He tried again, swinging his arm in front of him; nothing. He then swung it behind his head, and felt a sharp pain as his hand collided with something solid. The pain startling him from his half-awake state, Harry opened his eyes wide, sat up slowly and looked around.  
  
He was in his bedroom in Privet Drive. The white he had seen he now saw had been the the white ceiling of his room, and the thing his hand had collided with had been a wooden legpost of his bed. Harry rubbed his eyes, looking around at the window, and was suprised to see it was allready pitch black outside. The last time he had looked, it had been sunset. How long had he been asleep? He wondered. And why had he been sleeping on the floor?  
  
Harry shakily stood up and made his way to his bed, where he sat down heavily. He could not remember what had happened. The last thing he remembered was that he had been on his bed, upset after he had run off from Lupin, because Lupin had. . .said something, yes, something upsetting, but what was it?  
  
Sirius is dead.  
  
Harry's memory suddenly came back to him, and his head spun momentarily as he remembered everything that had happened. He lay down, his heart going a mile a minute as he remembered the ordeal. He had been overcome by grief, and had seemingly passed out because of it. Probaly because of the strong emotions, he reasoned to himself.  
  
He suddenly felt trapped, and without thinking about it he stood up, wrenched open his bedroom door and ran down the stairs, needing to be out of the house to escape the sudden feeling of imprisonment. As he entered the front hall, Harry stopped dead. Looking at the clock on the wall, he saw it was one o'clock in the morning.  
  
I can't just walk out like that, there could be Death Eaters spying on my house, I could get myself killed, he thought rationally, recalling something Lupin had said earlier in the day, when he had been lecturing him for having a one-way screaming contest with an invisible person.  
  
But he needed to get out. He needed to think, think things through, and he couldn't do that in the house. Instead Harry quickly raced upstairs and into his room, heedless of the noise he made, and dived at his trunk. Five minutes later, he emerged triumphantly with his Invisibility Cloak, half the contents of his trunk strewn all over the floor. Harry raced back downstairs, grabbed a key and went out the back door, thinking that if Death Eaters were spying on him, it was probaly safer to use the back door. Harry scrambled over the garden fence and dropped down into the small alleyway separating number five's garden from the Dursley's, walked out of the alleyway and onto the open front of Privet Drive, and began to walk up the road.  
  
It was a clear, cool night, with a light breeze blowing. Harry looked up as he passed number eight and saw the stars and moon shining down, looking very bright in the clearness of the summers night. They calmed him a bit, and he carried on walking up Privet Drive.  
  
Before he knew it, he had turned a corner and entered Magnolia Crescent. As he walked he saw the narrow alleyway down the side of the garage where the Dementors had attacked him and Dudley last summer, and where he had first seen Sirius. He had been disguised as Snuffles that night. . . . Harry quickly strode past it.  
  
Harry turned into Magnolia Road and headed to the park, as he had done so many times last summer, frustrated at being trapped in Little Whinging with no news. He had more important things on his mind this summer though, rather than being jealous his friends were together without him.  
  
Not feeling confident enough to vault the park fence while wearing the Invisibility Cloak (which was still quite big on him), Harry instead pushed open the rusty gate to the park, which protested loudly as he did so. He glanced around at the park, lit only by a couple of lamposts that must have been installed while he was away at Hogwarts for his fifth year, as they hadn't been there last summer, when he had frequently come here. The only swing that Dudley's gang had not broke last summer had now been successfully broke, along with the slide, which had the remains of a small bonfire at the bottom, with what looked like a few blown-up cans of deodrant littered around it.  
  
Harry sighed to himself and walked further into the park, away from the children's area and over to an isolated bench a fair distance away from the path, but which was still well lit enough for Harry to not be sitting completely in the dark. Harry lay down on the bench and looked up at the clear, night sky, littered with bright stars. He let his thoughts go as he stared up at them, feeling somewhat calmed by the peacefulness of the night, and the emptiness of the park around him.  
  
He stayed like this for several minutes, until he shook his head and reminded himself that he had come out here to think, not forget. Taking a deep breath and summoning up all his courage, Harry said the words that he had been trying to deny the truth of since the beginning of the summer.  
  
"Sirius is dead."  
  
Harry breathed again, feeling a strange sort of relief now that he had admitted it out loud. He was suprised that he did not feel any anger anymore, or self-loathing. All he felt for Sirius now was loss, for both Sirius and himself. His life had been such a waste, Harry thought sadly. He had spent thirteen years in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit, to escape only to become a prisoner in his own home, a home he hated. At least he must have died feeling free, Harry thought bitterly.  
  
But Sirius was dead, and Harry realised that now. He had to get on with his life, he had to get ready to defeat Voldemort, and he couldn't do that with the shadow of Sirius's death hanging over him. He knew that he would never forget Sirius, and that he would always feel partly responsible for his death, but Harry felt like he could at least get on with his life now, even if it would still be a while before he fully came to the terms with the loss he felt by Sirius's death.  
  
That's what Sirius would have wanted, Harry thought to himself. He would have wanted me to move on, to go on and make him proud.  
  
And that's what he would do, Harry vowed to himself. He would make Sirius proud, make his Mum and Dad proud, and he would get revenge for them. Yes, he would make them proud by avenging their deaths, by killing the bastard who was responsible for their deaths. He wouldn't let them down.  
  
Harry took one last look at the beautiful night sky before sitting up and swinging his legs off the bench. He felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders by accepting Sirius's death, and he now had yet another motivation to defeat Voldemort and his forces; to avenge his godfather's murder.  
  
Harry walked silently through the empty streets and back to Privet Drive, feeling calmer and more in control of himself and his life than he had all summer, his only companions the night and the stars, as he accepted Sirius Black's death.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
Harry awoke at his usual time the next day, determined to uphold the vows he had made to himself, his parents and Sirius the night before. He quickly dressed in his running clothes, tucked his wand in the waistband of his shorts and ran down the stairs and out the front door, intending to wait for Lupin before stretching out. Despite everything that had happened the day before, Harry had a feeling that Lupin would still be there, ready to accompany Harry on his morning run. It would be like him, Harry thought to himself.  
  
He sat on the doorstep, straining his ears for any sound of movement, but none came. After ten minutes of waiting, Harry had begun to doubt his belief that Lupin was coming, and so he jumped and reached for his wand when he heard a voice speak from the path in front of him.  
  
"Good morning Harry, ready for your morning run?" Lupin's voice to Harry sounded tired, as if he hadn't slept all night. Harry nodded to the path, in the general direction the voice seemed to be coming from.  
  
"Yeah, I'm ready." Harry stood up quickly and stretched out, exchanging small talk with Lupin as he did so, then ran out of the garden and down the road, on the road to the shops that he used for his morning run. He could hear Lupin's feet pounding along behind him, and smiled at the familiarity of it all.  
  
On the run, Lupin did not mention Sirius, or say anything about Harry's outburst the day before; nor did he say anything about it after the run, at breakfast, or on the way to Mrs Figg's house. Lupin seemed to understand that Harry did not want to talk about it, and did not press him. Harry was grateful for this; he did not feel like giving an explanation of what had happened last night to anyone.  
  
When Harry and Lupin arrived at Mrs Figg's house, they were greeted at the door by a tall woman with short orange hair and bright pink robes. She looked like she wouldn't look out of place at one of the raves that Harry had heard Dudley and his mates talking about, and Aunt Petunia complaining about.  
  
"Wotcher Harry!" Tonks said happily, as Harry and Lupin moved into the house. "I'm your teacher today, as I hope old Remy already told you. We're doing Concealment and Disguise, and who better to teach you that then a Metamorphmagus such as myself?" Tonks sounded very happy and excited, as she babbled on while locking the numerous locks on Mrs Figg's front door. In fact, she was so excited that she kept on dropping the keys that she needed to lock the door, making frustrated noises every time she did so.  
  
"Er, Tonks, why are you so happy about teaching me?" Harry said uncertainly. Tonks looked up at him from her position on the floor, where she had been picking the keys up for the fourth time, and smiled at him.  
  
"Because it gets me out of cleaning up Grimmauld Place!" She declared happily, as if cleaning up Grimmauld Place was one of the worst forms of tortue ever. "See, there's not much going on at the moment, if you know what I mean, so Dumbledore reckons we should make HQ more, what did he say, 'a more pleasant place to combat the darkness?' Something like that."  
  
Tonks shrugged her shoulders, finally locking the last lock and standing up straight. "Don't see what the point is really, I reckon it's a waste of time. And it's so boring. Besides, they'll never get that picture of that mad old bat down. Ah well. See, all I've got to do at the moment is Order work, seeing as I'm suspended from work and all, so that's why..."  
  
"You're suspended? Why? What for?" Harry was shocked; what could Tonks have done to get herself suspended from being an Auror? Tonks shrugged again.  
  
"Because of what happened at the Ministry in June. You know, when we saved your arses? Well, apparantly, when I realized that there were Death Eaters in the Ministry, I should have notified a Ministry security guard and called for reinforcements before charging in after you. Idiots! It's my job to go charging in, and there were no security guards there, we all got down to where you were without seeing anyone. Ministry security guards my arse. Kingsley's suspended as well, and he nearly got demoted. Don't worry about it though!" Tonks said, seeing the guilty look on Harry's face. "It's not your fault, I'd have done exactly the same thing if I were you. You behaved exactly like anyone else would have done, so don't beat yourself up about it."  
  
Harry smiled at Tonks, the guilt lessening slightly. Nobody had said that to him before, and it felt good to know that he wasn't a total idiot. However, he still felt responsible for the fiasco at the Ministry, for Sirius's death, and for the injuries that his friends, not to mention Tonks, had recieved. It had been a miracle that no-one else had been killed, Harry reflected.  
  
Lupin put his hand on Harry's shoulder, effectively breaking Harry out of his melancholy thoughts. He nodded at Harry, then turned to Tonks.  
  
"Well then Tonks, I'll leave you to it shall I? Harry, I'll be back at six o'clock to walk you back to Privet Drive, okay? Good, I'll see you then, and Tonks, try and keep him in one piece will you?" Tonks grinned at Lupin.  
  
"Don't worry Remy, Harry'll be fine with his new teacher." Remus frowned at her.  
  
"Will you stop calling me Remy?" He said irritably. Tonks smiled at him.  
  
"Nope. Anyway, Remy, how many sessions do you reckon it'll take for Harry to get all this? I reckon he can do it in eleven or twelve, with some hard work." Remus looked like he had had a sudden brainwave, and he turned to Harry.  
  
"Harry, you did read that timetable I gave you yesterday didn't you? Did you dispose of it afterwards?" Remus asked, looking worried.  
  
In all truth, Harry had completely forgotten about the timetable, what with everything that had happened last night. He quickly checked his trouser pockets (he was wearing the same pair of trousers he had been wearing yesterday), and was relieved when he found the timetable folded in his back pocket. He took it out of his pocket and showed it to Remus.  
  
"You looked like you had lost it there for a moment Harry," Remus said, clearly relieved as well. "Could you read it through now quickly, before I go? That way I can take it with me and ensure it gets destroyed. Try not to stop reading it once you start, the information will flow into your mind easier that way."  
  
Harry nodded and unfolded the parchment, quickly reading it through, trying not to stop when he read his name. When he had finished reading it, he handed the parchment to Remus, who folded it up again and placed it in the inside pocket of his trenchcoat. Harry then asked Remus a question that he already knew the answer to, but did not want to admit.  
  
"Why do I have to do Occlumency with Snape?"  
  
Remus sighed, looking like he had been expecting this question. "You know why, Harry. Surely you must understand how important it is that you learn Occlumency, after what happened in June? We cannot afford for something like that to happen again." Harry nodded glumly, but then another thought came to his mind.  
  
"But why does Snape have to teach me? He hardly taught me anything last time. Why can't someone else who knows Occlumency do it?"  
  
Remus looked at Harry, a slight frown crossing his features. "Although you may find it hard to believe Harry, Severus is one of the most excellent Occlumens in Europe. He has been practicing Occlumency since before he finished his studies at Hogwarts, and is thus immensely trained and experienced in the art of blocking his mind. The only other wizard who could train you at the same level Severus will be teaching you is Professor Dumbledore, and you know the dangers of what could happen if he taught you. I'm sorry Harry, but there is no other alternative. Besides; maybe these lessons will help the two of you settle your differences."  
  
Harry snorted, thinking that there was no way he and Snape could 'settle their differences'. There was too much history between the two; Snape had treated Harry like a disease from the moment he had arrived at Hogwarts, he had nearly got both Sirius and Remus kissed by Dementors in Harry's third year, had weakened Harry's mind for Voldemort last year, and played a large part in Sirius's death, taunting him and calling him a coward, which had probaly helped lead to his decision to go to the Department of Mysteries to rescue Harry. There was also the memories in Snape's Pensieve that Snape knew that Harry had seen, and the fact that Snape had hated his father, James Potter, and that Harry was a living reminder of him; even if Harry somehow did overcome his hatred of Snape, Harry doubted that he could do the same to Harry. Harry turned to Remus.  
  
"I sincerly doubt it." Remus frowned at Harry.  
  
"Nevertheless, the lessons will still commence. When is your first one?"  
  
"This friday."  
  
"Severus has given me some instructions for what you should do prior to your first lesson. Firstly, he says to tell you that you must clear your mind every night before you go to sleep, something he says he told you last year. Secondly, he says that you must select six or seven of your most painful memories and have them clear in your mind by the start of your first lesson. Thirdly, he says that you should relive and go over your experiences with the Imperius curse, and write down how you felt each time you were under it, and how you overcame it. I know this will be a lot of hard work for you, but it is essential that you learn Occlumency, preferably by the end of the summer. But I am realistic, and I believe you won't be fully functional in blocking Voldemort completely from your mind until October at the earliest. Still, I may be wrong and you may achieve it before you return to Hogwarts."  
  
Harry nodded, accepting his fate. Remus said goodbye again, promising to be back at six, and left. Tonks turned to Harry with a sympathetic look in her eyes.  
  
"Tough break Harry, being stuck with Snape, and in the summer, too. I don't like him either, the slimy git. Dumbledore trusts him though, and I suppose he's useful, but it doesn't mean we have to like him. Ah well," she said, a resigned expression her face.  
  
"Right then!" Tonks said suddenly, clapping her hands her together, "let's get started on the old Concealment and Disguise then shall we?" Tonks said excitedly, moving into the living room. Harry followed. "We've got the house to ourselves today, Figgy's gone off to some pet show or something, which will make this easier, won't have to put up with her nagging us about frightening her cats, thank god."  
  
Tonks sat down in an armchair, while Harry sat on the sofa. She leant back in the chair and steepled her hands in front of her face, looking uncharacteriscally serious.  
  
"Right then Harry, first things first. With me, you will be learning how to disguise any part of you that you wish. You'll learn spells that will disguise your real eye colour, your real hair colour, even your real skin colour. You'll also learn how to make potions along the same lines, and ways of concealing and disguising yourself that can only be achieved through potions. And, if all goes to plan, you should be able to disguise that scar by the end of the summer. Dumbledore suspects that it may be a bit of a problem though, seeing as it's a magical scar, a highly magical one at that, but I reckon we can do it, if we work hard enough.  
  
"Now, I need to find out if you have any Metamorphmagus capabilities at all. Have you ever changed your body in any way, without meaning to? Say, made your arm ten feet long, or grown your hair to your ankles overnight?"  
  
Harry thought about this, searching through his mind. Then something Tonks had said jogged him.  
  
"Did you say that growing your hair very quickly counts?" He said. Tonks smiled at him.  
  
"Go on."  
  
"Well, when I was young, before I found out I was a wizard, every time I got my hair cut, it always grew back straight away. You know; as soon as I got back from the barber's, it was exactly the same as it had been before. Once, my aunt cut my hair really short, and I hated it. She used kitchen scissors, and cut it really short but left the fringe, to hide my scar. I looked like an idiot, and was dreading being laughed at at school the next day. Anyway, when I got up in the morning, it was exactly the same as it had been before my aunt had cut it. Does that mean I can be a Metamorphmagus as well?" Harry said, looking hopefully over at Tonks.  
  
Tonks appeared to be in deep thought. "Well," she said, after a (for Harry) agonizing minute's silence, "you may have some ability, but I'm not certain you are a complete Metamorphmagus. Apart from your hair, have you ever changed any other part of you, like a part of your face, or any major limbs, like an arm or a leg?"  
  
Harry racked his mind, trying to think of a time that he had done this. However, he could not find one, and shook his head glumly at Tonks. She was looking at him interestedly.  
  
"Harry, I reckon you're a natural-born level one Metamorphmagus. If you were a fully-fledged one, like me, your abilities would have shown by now. What this means is that with practice, you'll be able to alter your body with your mind in some minor ways, such as growing your hair, and your toe and fingernails. Not much really. You'll probaly be able to shave using it as well. For the rest though, you'll have to learn the spells and use the potions like everyone else. Still, it's a one-up on a lot of people," Tonks said consolingly, seeing the disappointment in Harry's face. Harry grimaced.  
  
"Suppose so." Tonks smiled at him.  
  
"Forget about it. Now, have you ever had any experience with any type of disguising or concealing magic in the past? Anything at all."  
  
"Umm, a few things in Potions, like the Shrinking potion, but nothing that ever got used on me. Except. . . " Harry trailed off. Could he tell Tonks about the Polyjuice Potion? He wondered. After all, she was an Auror, and she worked for the Ministry. . .  
  
Tonks was looking at him expectantly. "Well?" she said, clearly looking forward to hearing something juicy. Harry squirmed, but then reasoned with himself that Tonks was in the Order, and was trustworthy. He looked her in the eye and said clearly, "in my second year, I used Polyjuice Potion."  
  
Tonks sat there for a while, staring stupidly at Harry. After she stopped gaping at him, she spoke to him in an awestruck voice.  
  
"No way! Polyjuice Potion? Really? Wow! Why, what for? You made that in your second year? That's really hard to make, are you lying to me? You're having me on, aren't you? You're not? Oh that's so cool, you have to tell me how you did it, and why you did it, oh go on Harry, you have to tell me! I'm your teacher, you have to do what I say, go on. . ."  
  
Harry laughed, greatly relieved that Tonks was more impressed by his confession, rather than thinking he was stupid for doing something so dangerous. He told her the story of how and why they had made it, having to stop several times while she made awed noises. Ten minutes later, he had finished, and Tonks had shook her head, telling him how amazing his story was. Harry then asked her what they were going to be doing today.  
  
"Well," Tonks said slowly, I'm supposed to talk you through the dangers of changing your appearance with potions and spells, and what can happen if you botch the job. You don't need to know any of that rubbish, all you need to know is that you should be very careful with these spells and potions. We can talk it through if you want though, if you actually want to go over the scientific side of concealing spells and potions?" Tonks said, grinning.  
  
Harry quickly shook his head. "It's alright." Tonks continued to grin.  
  
"Didn't think so. Nah, we won't be doing that. Instead, we can work on your Metamorphmagus abilities, now we know you've got some. Right, first I'm going to show you how to grow your nails really quickly. . . ."  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
"Well, that wasn't so bad was it?" Tonks said eight hours later, looking at Harry across the kitchen table with a mischievous glint in her eye. Harry scowled at her. She knew full well he was absoulutely exhausted.  
  
He and Tonks had spent all day experimenting with Harry's Metamorphmagus abilities, and Harry had found it much more tiring than he had liked. So far, he had been able to grow his hair down to just past his shoulders, but had not managed to get it any further. He also had succeeded in growing his fingernails, but could not control it yet, and had had a brief scare when he had grown one of them to four feet and one of Mrs Figg's cats had started trying to jump up onto it. Tonks had banished the cat out of the room, making Harry thank god that Mrs Figg was not at home to see that; he doubted she would ever let Tonks in her house again.  
  
Suprisingly, the hair and fingernail growing had been much harder than he had expected. Harry had assumed that it was a simple case of learning the proper technique of how to do it, seeing as he had been able to grow his hair out before, but it had required a great deal of concentration and will power that he had not anticipated. It had sapped a lot of his energy, even more so than the curses he had performed with Remus the day before, and had given him a throbbing headache that was bothering him now. Tonks had announced that he had had enough for one day, and now they were both enjoying a late lunch (at four o'clock) of spaghetti and toast.  
  
"Bo den, Harry," Tonks said, her mouth full of spaghetti. With a great gulp she swallowed it, and carried on. "How do you think you did today? Reckon you did allright?"  
  
Harry did not have the energy to talk, so he merely nodded his head slightly. Tonks laughed.  
  
"It'll get easier the more you practice, trust me. We should have most of this down by the end of the third lesson, and then you can start learning the potions used to conceal and disguise. We'll go on to the spells last, as they're going to take the longest. I've got a feeling that scar of yours is going to be a bit of a problem though. Who've you got tomorrow then?" Tonks said curiously, taking a bite of toast.  
  
Harry thought about it, and remembered quickly. "I've got Physical Combat, with someone called Thomas Anderson." Harry racked his mind, but could not remember ever hearing the name before. There were a few names on his timetable that he had not heard before; as well as Physical Combat with Thomas Anderson, he had Duelling Techniques with someone called Nate Gonzales, and a lesson on wednesday with someone called Flynn Booth, but the timetable had not said what the lesson with him actually was.  
  
Tonks looked puzzled for a moment, then shrugged her shoulders. "Probaly just some blokes Dumbledore hired to train you. Hopefully they'll be cute." She nearly choked on her toast at Harry's scandalized expression.  
  
"Gods Harry, lighten up will you, you're nearly sixteen for Merlin's sake! That shouldn't embarass you, I'm sure the girls are crawling all over you at Hogwarts." This time Tonks did choke on her toast at Harry's expression, bending down and coughing uncontrollably as Harry blushed crimson. Just as Harry started to panic, she swallowed in what looked to Harry like a painful move, and straightened up.  
  
They sat and talked in the kitchen for a while, until Mrs Figg returned at half past five from her pet show, proudly showing off her black and white cat Tufty, who had apparantly come first in some competition or other. Indeed, Mrs Figg was so proud of her "little Tufty-wufty" that for the next half hour, she proceeded to tell Harry and Tonks exactly how, when, and why he had won the contest. Needless to say, both Harry and Tonks were praying for mercy after five minutes.  
  
Their prayers were answered when at five to six Remus knocked on the front door, which caused a ten minute scramble for Harry and Tonks to open the locks on the front door. When they finally did get it open, there was nobody on the other side. Harry and Tonks looked at each other uncertainly.  
  
"What do you think. . ." Harry began, but then stopped short when he heard familar laughter in the kitchen. Turning around and looking into the kitchen, he saw Remus laughing at him, a cup of tea nestled in his hands. In between laughing, he managed to gasp, "there is a back door you know."  
  
Harry and Tonks glared at him, but Harry was still too exhausted to hex him, even though he knew he could in Mrs Figg's house. Tonks did not hex him either, but seemed to have come up with a better punishment.  
  
"Fair enough, you can go lock back up for being such an inconvenience." Remus continued to laugh, putting his tea down on the table and simply waving his wand at the door from the kitchen, causing the locks on the door to lock themselves. Harry and Tonks glared at him again.  
  
A few seconds later though, being annoyed at Remus was the last thing on Harry's mind. An intense pain had suddenly shot through his scar, and an image had flashed through his mind quickly, too quickly for Harry to see what it was. Before he knew it, he was on the floor, with Remus, Tonks and Mrs Figg looking down at him with varying states of alarm.  
  
"Harry, are you okay? What happened?" Remus asked frantically. He seemed to Harry to be panicking a great deal. Harry sat up slowly.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine, it's nothing, I. . .Aaah!"  
  
The intense pain ripped through his scar again, but this time it did not subside. Harry fell to the floor, though he was unaware of doing so. The image he had seen came unbidden again to his mind, and this time he saw what was happening, as the image slowly came into focus through the pain. . .  
  
There was a tall, thin and black-hooded man with a white snakelike face and glowing red eyes, standing in a dark room lightened only by some green torches perched highly on the walls around him. His pitiless red eyes were focused on something on the floor in front of him, and he was pointing a strange stick of wood at it. There were people surrounding him, hooded in black and masked in white, presumably waiting for the man to do something. He did.  
  
Lord Voldemort pointed his wand at the object in front of him, and in a high, ringing voice that echoed in the dark room, screamed,"Crucio!"  
  
The object on the floor screamed in pain, writhing on the floor, and as it shrieked in pain, Harry realised the object was a girl, a girl who looked strangely familiar, a girl with big, bushy hair. . .  
  
The girl turned on the floor as she writhed in pain, and her body twisted to face Harry. It was Hermione.  
  
Harry tried to run towards her, but his feet would not move. Feeling helpless, he looked around frantically, and saw Voldemort looking right at him. His bright red eyes seemed to bore right through Harry.  
  
"Look Potter, look at what you have done. Do you see what is happening? Your mudblood friend is being tortued, and will soon be killed, and it's all because of you! This is only happening because she is your friend!"  
  
Harry watched Hermione, crying in pain on the floor in front of him. He tried calling out to her, but his mouth wouldn't move. He once again tried to move towards her, but again found he couldn't. He shut his eyes tightly, but it did not help, her screams seemed to be filling his mind, it was too much, too much. . .  
  
Abruptly, the screams stopped. Harry opened his eyes and looked at her still body, but as he looked, her broken body changed, it stretched, the curves disappeared, and the bushy hair was replaced with fiery red hair. . .  
  
Voldemort pronounced the Cruciatus Curse again, and Ron Weasley screamed in pain, crying out and writhing uncontrollably on the ground. His screams were much louder than Hermione's had been, making the whole room echo his pain. Harry looked up at Voldemort, who was laughing a high, evil laugh. His Death Eaters were laughing loudly as well. Harry was filled with a overpowering anger, and he began to shake.  
  
"You see, Potter?" Voldemort screamed over Ron's agonized yells. "You see what the price of being your friend is? The price of being close to Harry Potter? This is what will happen, and I assure you Potter, this will happen, I will kill everyone you care about, one by one, until you have no- one left, and then I will kill you. Yes Potter, you will die, consumed with guilt, knowing that it is your fault that everyone you ever knew, everyone you ever cared about, everyone who was ever your friend, died because of you.  
  
"Is that what you want Potter? Because that is what will happen if you continue to live. So why carry on? Why not give up? Why not just end it all? You will save lives if you do, and we all know you enjoy that." He stopped talking, taking the curse off Ron, and waited for a reaction. He got it; the Death Eaters began to laugh, and he continued.  
  
"So why bother? I shall do you a deal, Potter. End your life. Kill yourself, and I will spare your friends, in your honour. Your continued existence will only get them killed, but your death will save their lives. I promise you Potter; I will not kill them, if you do what I want. I am a man of my word, Potter, though I may be many other things. Remember, you were born to be a hero, their hero, that is your destiny, and I am now giving you the chance to fulfill that destiny. Do you turn away from fate? Do we have a deal?"  
  
Voldemort stared at Harry, watching him very closely. Harry merely stood there, looking down at Ron's tortued body, then at Voldemort. He repeated this motion many times. Voldemort smiled, sensing that he was near his goal, especially when Harry fell to his knees and began to shake, with what looked to Voldemort like tears. He was certainly not prepared when Harry began to laugh loudly.  
  
"Kill myself, Voldemort?" Harry began, rising up from the floor. "Do you seriously believe that you can convince me to do that? Why can't you do it yourself? I thought you would like to kill me, you know, seeing as I've "Irked you too often", thought you'd take pleasure in it, but looks like I was wrong.".  
  
"Do you actually expect me to believe that you will not harm my friends, if I kill myself? No Voldemort, I know you, know you more than you realise. You can't manipulate me like this, I know that it dosesn't matter if I'm alive or dead, you will still kill them, unless you are stopped. And I promise you, Voldemort, you will be stopped, maybe not by me, maybe not by Dumbledore, but someone will stop you, and I will give my life to ensure that you are stopped, and killed."  
  
Voldemort stared at him, the anger and fury in his red eyes making Harry cower backwards, despite his previous brave words. Voldemort sneered at him, keeping his anger in check long enough to hiss in a cold, hate-filled voice:  
  
"Last mistake you'll ever make, Potter."  
  
Voldemort raised his wand, and screamed the killing curse. Harry watched the curse come closer, telling himself that this wasn't real; it was only a vison, it was just Voldemort messing with him, it was all in his mind.. . .  
  
The curse made contact, and Harry Potter's mind exploded. All he could see was the bright green light of the killing curse, it was filling his thoughts, his senses, it was everywhere. And then he could hear high pitched laughter, it was getting louder and louder, the green light getting brighter and brighter, he couldn't breathe, couldn't take it anymore, it was too much, too much. . . .  
  
Harry Potter's world exploded, and his body lay still in Arabella Figg's house in Little Whinging, Surrey. 


	3. Chapter three: The time ahead and the ti...

Harry Potter and the path of war  
  
Chapter three: The time ahead and the time just behind  
  
There was blackness in front of Harry's eyes, and it was all he could see. He could hear distant voices, frantic, fast-talking voices. Another voice entered the fray, this one seeming closer to him, a calm, soothing voice that was calling his name.  
  
"Harry? Can you hear me Harry? Wake up Harry, wake up. . ."  
  
He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder, and he groaned, and with a great effort opened his eyes, causing the blackness that was enveloping him to lift. He was laying in a massive four poster bed, in a room that he did not recognise. The window directly in front of him showed him that it was night, and to his left he could see people silhouetted against the entrance to the room, talking very quickly. Looking to his right, he saw the tired face of Remus Lupin smiling down at him, looking immensely relieved. There were black and purple bags under his eyes, and he looked to Harry like he hadn't slept in days.  
  
"Where am I?" Harry asked Remus, sitting up. He felt as if he had been asleep for years, and had a splitting headache.  
  
"You're in Arabella's house Harry, try not to move so quickly now, everything's fine. How are you feeling?"  
  
"I'm all right, just got a bit of a headache. How long have I been out? The last thing I remember was that vision thing. . .Voldemort sent a killing curse at me, but that wasn't real, was it? Did I survive the killing curse again? Does that mean that what happened to Voldemort when I was one has happened again? Is he dead?" Harry asked hopefully.  
  
Remus put his hand in the air to stop Harry's questioning, and said calmly, "no Harry, I am sorry to say that Voldemort is not dead, but he is injured. I'll tell you everything later. You're in no fit state to listen to any long explanations at the moment."  
  
"He's injured?" Harry said quickly. "Why?" What had happened in the time he had been unconscious? Harry wondered. How long had it been?  
  
Remus did not answer his question. Instead he was reaching for a glass bottle full of a luminous yellow liquid from the small table beside the bed Harry was in. He unscrewed the top and poured some of the substance into the hollow of the lid, handing it carefully to Harry. Harry took it cautiously.  
  
"Harry, all your questions will be answered soon." Remus finally said. "I know you don't like things being kept from you, but as I have already said, you are in no state to listen to any long explanations at the moment. Drink this, it's a healing potion laced with dreamless sleep potion, it'll get rid of your headache, and when you wake up we'll talk, I promise."  
  
Harry nodded, wondering if Remus was just saying that to get him to drink the potion. He drank it anyway, and soon had no suspicions at all, as he quickly fell into a deep sleep.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
When Harry awoke, he found that his splitting headache had gone and that the room was bathed in sunlight, making it look much bigger than when Harry had first seen it, at night. Harry looked curiously around; it seemed to him a perfectly normal, plain room, white walls, a small window, and a door, the door that Harry had seen people talking at last night. Who were they? Harry wondered. Had they been talking about him?  
  
A loud grunt startled Harry out of his confused thoughts, and looking to his right, he saw Remus in the same chair he had been in the last time Harry had been awake. He was slouched down in it and was snoring loudly.  
  
Harry started to laugh, but tried to control it by sticking his fist in his mouth so he wouldn't wake Remus up. As much as he wanted to talk to Remus and find out what had happened, he did not want to wake him up to do so. He had seemed very tired to Harry when he had last woke up, and he was not about to begrudge him this sleep that he so obviously needed.  
  
He battled with his laughter for a while, but when Remus mumbled something about pies and socks Harry let out a loud snort, and Remus's eyes snapped open, his hand immediately reaching for his wand. When he saw it was just Harry laughing, he relaxed and smiled tiredly.  
  
"Feeling better then?" Remus asked groggily, sitting up straight and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. Harry nodded quickly, and Remus continued, "headache gone? Don't feel sick at all?"  
  
Harry shook his head, feeling a slight sense of foreboding come over him. "Completely cured. Can we talk now then?"  
  
Remus laughed sleepily, and said, "Harry, you are the most inquisitive person I have ever met, and one of the most impatient," he added mischievously, smiling. "Very well then, what do you want to know?"  
  
"What's happened to Voldemort, Remus? Why is he injured, what injured him? Is it because of that vision thing? Why am I here? How long have I been out? What's happened since I have been?" Remus sighed.  
  
"Slow down Harry, okay? I think it will probaly be easier if I just tell you everything from the beginning, rather than telling you just what you ask. Does that sound easier?" Harry nodded his head quickly, and impatiently. "Okay then, let's start. First off, you have been unconscious since yesterday evening, ever since you collapsed in Arabella's kitchen. Now, I assume that you know that this, ah, vision that occured was Voldemort penetrating and attacking your mind? You do? Brilliant, that will make this explanation a bit shorter.  
  
"When Voldemort first began to attack your mind, you behaved very strangely. At first you just fell to the floor, screaming and clutching your scar, but after around twenty seconds, you stopped screaming and just lay there. We all thought you'd passed out, and I was about to revive you when you started talking." Remus paused. "I'm not entirely sure if this corresponds with what happened in your vision, but it seems that we were hearing what you were saying to Voldemort, who was undoubtedly present in this vision. From what I have gathered, it appears that he was trying to manipulate you into killing yourself. Am I right?"  
  
Harry nodded, and fleetingly told Remus of what had happened in the vision, not wanting to relive it again. Once he had finished telling it, Remus continued.  
  
"Hmmm, so we could hear what you were saying in the vision, but not what Voldemort was saying? Interesting. . .so, after you told him that you would not kill yourself, he hit you with the killing curse? Yes, that makes sense from what I saw as well. A few seconds after you said that you started shaking, it looked like you were having some sort of siezure. Then you just passed out, unconscious. That's when everything went insane. Arabella started screaming for someone to get Professor Dumbledore, all her cats started screeching because she was screaming, Tonks tried to revive you but I stopped her, she started screaming at me, then. ."  
  
"Why wouldn't you let Tonks revive me?" Harry interrupted, a little angrily. Had Remus been thinking that Voldemort had possessed his body again? Harry wondered. Did he not think that Harry was capable of fighting off Voldemort from his mind? After all, he thought, I did it at the Ministry, all I had to do was think of Sirius. . . Dumbledore had hinted that it was because of his love. . .but what did that mean? He wondered curiously. Why was he able to fight Voldemort off with his emotions? He thought frustratedly. His musings were interrupted by Remus sighing, wearily.  
  
"I wouldn't let Tonks revive you, Harry, because you'd obviously just had a very serious magical attack inflicted on you, and I was afraid that any more magic performed on you could be very dangerous. So, I picked you up and put you on Arabella's sofa, then calmed Tonks down and sent her to get Professor Dumbledore.  
  
"When he arrived, he seemed to already know exactly what was going on. He put you into a magical coma, so Voldemort could not continue to attack your mind, and levitated you up to this room. Then, as I was telling him what I had witnessed of your vision, there was a firecall from Severus."  
  
"Snape?" Harry said quickly. "What did he want?"  
  
"Severus, along with the other remaining Death Eaters, was with Voldemort at the time he mentally attacked you. Apparantly Voldemort wanted to make a big show of demonstrating that he was capable of killing you, which he was convinced he could do by means of this vision, even if he was not actually physically killing you himself, just making you do it yourself. I don't fully understand this; why would he be proud of manipulating you into committing suicide? It does not show his power at all. Nevertheless, that is what the purpose of the Death Eaters being present seems to be.  
  
"According to Severus's account, he and the other Death Eaters experienced an enhanced version of what I, Arabella and Tonks experienced of the vision; they heard what you were saying as well as what Voldemort was saying. They heard you taunt Voldemort and Voldemort say the killing curse, although he only said it out loud and did not physically perform it. Apparantly a second after he said it, a bright white light surrounded him and left the Death Eaters unable to see, and when the light faded, Voldemort was laying on the floor, not moving."  
  
"But he's not dead, is he?" Harry asked, his breathing fast. "You said he wasn't dead, just injured." Remus nodded grimly.  
  
"Unfortunately Harry you are right, he is not dead, he is still very much alive, but he is not fully functional. The killing curse he sent at you backfired at him, similar to the way it did when he gave you that scar. However, the potion he used last year when he rose again has given him more strength than he had that time, and the curse was much less powerful than usual, being performed in a mental eviornment rather than the usual physical one, and Voldemort was not ripped from his body this time, You will also notice the absence of another scar on your forehead! He has however been weakened considerably, and from what Severus says he is now unable to even walk around by himself, let alone attack your mind again or perform any other type of magic. It's going to take him quite a while to return to full health."  
  
"But why would he risk trying to kill me like that, when he knows how dangerous it could be?" Harry wondered. How could Voldemort be so stupid? He thought incredulously. Remus smiled.  
  
"According to Severus, it was because of his out of control emotions, and from what you have told me of this vision, I have to say I agree. Your taunting words, combined with the anger he must have felt with being spoken to like that and the embrassment he must have felt at being mocked in front of his Death Eaters, must have sent him over the top. Severus says that towards the end of the vision, he could see Voldemort getting angrier and angrier, and just before he said the killing curse he looked angrier than Severus had ever seen him before, and judging by the other Death Eater's reactions, they seemed to think so as well."  
  
Remus paused again, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "What I believe happened," he began slowly, "is that when you laughed at Voldemort and taunted him for not killing you himself, he lost his control and let his anger take over. I do not believe that that he had any intention at all of harming you himself within the vision, knowing how dangerous it could potentially be because of your connection, but you rose his anger and fury to an unbearable level for him, and he lost all sense of reason by trying to kill you. What this shows, Harry, is that Voldemort does not just think of you as a simple child, if he thought that of you then you would have been unable to rile him up like you did, because he would think that your words were of little importance. No, Voldemort must either fear you, or think of you as a worthy opponent, to let your words get to him like they did."  
  
"So what does all this mean?" Harry said, confused. His brain felt like it was about to explode with all the new information he was being told. Remus frowned.  
  
"It means that Voldemort, when he is returned to full health, will increase his efforts to kill you. From what the results of this vision have shown, and from what Severus has observed of him, Voldemort sees you as a growing threat and wants you out of the way as quickly as he can. The fact that you and your friends fought off ten of his best Death Eaters at the Ministry in June has left it's mark on him; he no longer thinks of you as a tedious pest, but as a growing challenge to his power. He knows that there is something powerful about you, and that the longer you stay alive the more powerful you will become; he does not want to take the risk of letting you live, when you could potentially be dangerous to him in the future.  
  
"It will be a while, however, before he is returned to his full health, but when he does, I believe that is when the real war will begin. This is a good thing," Remus hastened to add, at Harry's downcast look at the mention of an impending war, "it gives us a chance to gain more support, to organize and prepare the Order, so that when it happens we are prepared for anything he can throw at us. We will win this war Harry, no matter what it takes."  
  
Harry nodded his head sadly, thinking of the darkness ahead of them all, but then a new thought came into his head, a way that the war could be avoided entirely. . .  
  
"I need to talk to Dumbledore." Remus frowned.  
  
"You need to talk to Professor Dumbledore?" He said slowly, and slightly suspiciously. "Why so suddenly?"  
  
"I just do, is he here at the moment?"  
  
"No, but he is due to be here at six o'clock tonight. Shall I tell him you need to talk to him?" Harry nodded. Remus looked at him sympathetically, and said, "I realise this is a lot of information to absorb Harry, and you have handled it very well. Personally I think that you've handled it better than what I would have done, had I been in your shoes. Now then!" He said suddenly, clapping his hands together loudly. "What do you want to do now then? Do you want some breakfast, some toast or something?"  
  
He said yes, and Remus went off to make him some toast and a cup of tea. Harry lay back in the bed, and began to plan and work out his idea that, if it worked, would destroy Voldemort and his forces, and stop the war before it even began.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
Harry spent the remainder of the day taking various potions that helped to strengthen his mind back to it's original state, working out and planning his idea that could prevent the war, and talking to Remus. Following a discussion about what the consequences of Voldemort's failed killing curse meant, and why it had happened in the first place, Remus looked sternly at Harry.  
  
"You are aware then Harry, how close this connection between the two of you is?" Harry nodded, still feeling disgusted at the thought of this close connection between himself and Voldemort. Remus nodded approvingly at him, and continued.  
  
"Good, you will need to be fully aware of how close this connection is in order to successfully block it through Occlumency. This is an urgent matter now Harry, it is vitally important that you master Occlumency as perfectly as you can, as quick as you can. Doing this will give Voldemort less of an oppurtunity to attack you, and will ensure that he does not have an advantage over you by being able to see your thoughts and attack you through your mind. And, regardless of what you think of Severus, he is your teacher and a superb Occlumens, and you must listen to him to get through this and learn everything you need to. There is no longer enough time to take you slowly through this, you need to succeed in blocking Voldemort by the end of the summer at the latest, which we believe is when he will be restored to full health."  
  
"It's going to take him until the end of the summer to recover?" Harry asked hopefully. That will give me more time, if it dosen't work the first time round, he thought determidly. Remus nodded.  
  
"From what we know, yes Harry, it's going to be a while before he's active again. However, that won't stop his Death Eaters from wreaking havoc. We just have to hope that Voldemort will keep them quiet until he's back to full health, we really need this time to prepare and organize ourselves."  
  
Harry gave a nod of assent, glancing for what felt like the seventy-fifth time at the clock on the wall across from his room. Half-past five. Dumbledore will be here soon, Harry thought, and then I can tell him my plan. Remus left the room, presumably to help Mrs Figg with the dinner, and Harry lay back in his bed. In what seemed to him like hours later, he sat up again and looked again at the clock. Quarter to six. Come on! Harry thought impatiently. An odd feeling of urgency was beginning to rise inside of him, and the wait for six o'clock was becoming unbearable.  
  
Finally, at six o'clock exactly, the door to Harry's room opened and Albus Dumbledore walked in, moving quickly towards Harry and placing himself in the chair beside Harry's bed. He looked at Harry worriedly and opened his mouth to speak, but Harry cut him off.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore! I've got a plan, if it works then Voldemort will be dead and this war won't even properly get going, but we need to organize it, it will be too late otherwise!"  
  
Dumbledore looked at Harry searchingly, but Harry did not think he was reading his mind. He sighed.  
  
"Very well then Harry, what is your plan?" he seemed weary, and Harry suddenly realized what Dumbledore was thinking.  
  
"Professor, I know what you're thinking, that this plan is just some hot- headed, spur of the moment thing that I came up with in two seconds flat, but it's not. I've been planning this all day, and I know what the risks will be if it is used. I. . I learned my lesson in June, I'm not going to make the same mistake twice," he said, his mouth going dry as the words spilled out of him. Dumbledore's expression softened, and there was renewed respect in his eyes as he looked at Harry over the top of his half-moon glasses.  
  
"I realize that Harry, I am glad that you have chosen not to ignore that lesson. So then, what is your plan?" he said, looking at Harry interestedly. Harry swallowed.  
  
"Voldemort's injured at the moment, he's not at full health, is he? Remus says he can't even walk around by himself, let alone perform any type of magic." Dumbledore nodded.  
  
"Yes, that is true," he said slowly, "but what do you propose we do with this information?" Harry swallowed again, and took a deep breath.  
  
"Well, I'm not injured, am I? And I'm the only one who can defeat him, according to the prophecy. I know that normally I wouldn't stand a chance against him, but if he can't perform magic, I could easily kill him, I just have to learn the killing curse. Snape knows where he is, so if I went there with some of the Order, they could get the Death Eaters who are probaly guarding him out of the way, and I could get a clear shot at Voldemort. I don't want to bring other people into this, especially people from the Order who I know, but I can't do this on my own, I know that much. Does this seem realistic?"  
  
Dumbledore stared impassively at him, seemingly thinking hard. This was tortue for Harry, the amount of time he had spent perfecting his plan had given him a sense of urgency for the plan to be put into action immediately. Finally, Dumbledore spoke.  
  
"Harry, this plan is very well thought out, and it is clear that you have spent a long time on it, and I applaud you for having the ability to come up with it. However, there are a few details that you are not aware of that would make this plan impossible to put into action.  
  
"Firstly, Voldemort's location is unknown to us. Severus cannot tell us where he is, Voldemort has performed a dark spell on his followers that prevents them from doing so; it controls the mind to an extent, to stop the location being told. I cannot even obtain it through Legilimency, and there is no counter-curse for the spell. Secondly, it would take much more than all of the Order's forces to invade wherever it is that he has set up headquarters; he may not be able to perform magic at the moment, but I am sure he has used it before this incident occured to set up dark wards and barriers to protect his location. He may be running low on loyal Death Eaters at the moment, but he still has many other forces in his service already, including werewolves, vampires, trolls and giants. The Order is not as strong as you clearly think it is Harry, it will need to grow much more in order to be capable of combating Voldemort's forces, and it is certainly not strong enough yet to invade Voldemort's headquarters. Thirdly Harry, do you really believe that it will be that simple for you to learn the killing curse?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Harry said quickly, narrowing his eyes and feeling slightly insulted. Dumbledore held his hand up apologetically.  
  
"You misunderstand me Harry. I am not questioning your magical ability, but your personality, and your beliefs. You are one of the most noble and merciful people I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. You have proven this time and time again, not least with your decision to not have Peter Pettigrew executed in the Shrieking Shack in your third year. I am sure that because of this mercifulness, this belief that death is not the right answer, the idea of killing someone yourself must seem to you to be brutal and monstrous. Am I right?"  
  
Harry did not answer. Was he capable of killing someone? He wondered. . . he had wanted to kill Sirius when he had first met him in his third year, and he had hit Bellatrix Lestrange with the Cruciatus Curse in the Ministry in June. . .did he have the nerve to kill Voldemort, when the oppurtunity came? He wondered. Could he actually fulfill the prophecy?  
  
Harry was broken from his troubled thoughts by an old, wrinkled hand coming to rest on his shoulder. Harry looked up quickly, alarmed by this sudden contact, and into the face of Albus Dumbledore, looking down on him sadly.  
  
"It is not time. You are not ready to defeat Voldemort yet Harry, you must grow and mature first, into a man who is capable of killing. This must seem sickening to you, and believe me when I say that I myself don't exactly relish the thought that it is your destiny to become a murderer. However, you have asked for the truth from me, and I am giving it you. It may seem harsh, but it is the truth; it is your choice if you wish to accept it or not."  
  
Harry nodded, and Dumbledore stood up, taking his wrinkled hand from Harry's shoulder. He walked towards the exit to the room, and when he reached the door, he turned around to look at Harry. There was a deep empathy in his eyes as he spoke. "You are a strong willed young man Harry. The years ahead will be hard for you, and you will experience much loss and tragedy, but I have confidence that you will make it through. I believe in you."  
  
And with that, Dumbledore exited the room, the door shutting by itself quietly behind him. Harry lay back in the comfortable bed, trying to make sense of all the new information he had just recieved, and tried to make some room for it in his already jumbled and confused thoughts.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
An hour later, Harry was walked by Remus back to number four Privet Drive, and after a few quick memory charms, the Dursley's were none the wiser that Harry had not spent the night there. They apparantly had not even realised that he was not there anyway, but Remus had said that it was better to be on the safe side. Harry said goodbye to Remus and retreated to his room, grateful when he reached it and could forget the outside world for at least a while.  
  
Ten minutes later however, his blissful ignorance of the world was destroyed when Hedwig flew in through the open window, bearing two letters. Harry took them from her, and stroked her feathers lightly. Judging by the dead mouse in her beak, she had been out hunting. He mused on whether she had wondered why he wasn't in his room last night; he had left the window open when he had left in the morning, so she hadn't been locked out. Probaly out hunting all night, Harry thought, otherwise she would have come to find me.  
  
He opened the first letter and saw, judging by the neat, precise handwriting, that it was from Hermione.  
  
Dear Harry,  
How are you? How's your summer going? I do hope you're all right, your last letter seemed OK, but you never can tell with you. I hope that the Dursley's are treating you okay. I'm fine, it's a bit hectic here at the moment, my Mum and Dad's dentist surgery has been shut down temporarily, so they've decided to re-decorate the entire house. In fact, 'a bit hectic' is an understatement, it's like a mad house in here. My room's being done at the moment, on the plans I set out of course, so I'm sleeping in the spare room, which is horrible. Nobody ever uses it, so it's a complete mess. I think I saw a cockroach in here last night, it's really terrible. Some of Them are checking in on me every few days to check if I'm okay, and they told me about this programme you've started. I think it's a fantastic idea! I wish I was doing it, you have to tell me everything when I see you. They said that they'll tell you if anything bad happens to me, which I suppose is good. I don't like worrying you though. Have you heard from Ron lately? He owled me yesterday, and said that he was going to owl you after he'd owled me. As usual he was moaning (but don't tell him I said that!) about something, he said that Percy had come round to pick up the rest of his belongings, and Mrs Weasley had  
welcomed him back. Percy refused and left, but Ron was annoyed with his mum. He says that they shouldn't forgive him, because he's "been a huge, selfish prat", but I think that if he ever gets the courage to swallow his pride and apologise, he's learned his lesson and should be forgiven. I don't think that Ron agrees with me though. You'll forgive him, won't you Harry? I'm sure he didn't mean all those horrible things he said about you, I think he was just convinced that it was the truth because he was so devoted to Fudge. I do hope you forgive him, he'll eventually realise he was wrong and apologise. I'm not sure if we're going to The Place this summer, Ron said something about it, but I doubt we are, They say it's too busy at the moment to have us staying there. I do hope you're all right, what with everything that happened at the end of the year, remember that you're not alone, and that everyone's thinking of you, so don't do anything stupid if you don't hear from anyone for a while. Write back as soon as you can. Love from Hermione.  
  
Harry set the letter down, feeling drowned in new information, a feeling that was starting to become all too familiar with him. The letter was probaly the longest one Hermione had ever wrote him, and even though it was filled with encouraging and relieving information, it was not exactly what he needed at the moment, having absorbed so much new information already in the day. Setting Hermione's letter aside, Harry picked up and ripped open the envelope containing Ron's letter, relying on him to lighten his mood with a relaxed letter.  
  
Harry,  
how you doing mate? The muggle's treating you okay? They should be, after old Mad-Eye scared them to death at Kings Cross, that was brilliant! Almost as good as when Malfoy got turned into a ferret, but not as good, it's going to take something huge to top that! I'm doing allright, bit bored though. I'm stuck at home, Fred and George have buggered off to live in London while their shop gets completely on it's feet, Bill's back in Egypt till halfway through August, Charlie's working with Them at all hours, it's basically just me and Ginny, and she's not really much fun, spends most of her time shouting at me. We're not allowed out to the Paddock to play Quidditch anymore, you know, "increased security" and all that, so there's hardly anything to do, not even any homework. Did you hear about Umbridge? I can't believe that Fudge got her off like that, it's the most stupid decision Fudge ever made, I can't believe people are actually going along with it! He really needs a good kicking, and we really need a new Minister of Magic, someone who can actually do the job properly.  
  
Harry stopped reading for a moment to let the sudden feeling of irritation and anger inside him die down. He had read about Umbridge; she had gone on trial on charges of violently endangering Hogwart's students, and threatening to perform an unforgivable curse on Harry, and she had gotten off on grounds of "an unstable mental state." Fudge had claimed that she had previous problems with a mental condition, and that this was the reason why she had made such disgraceful decisions, and was thus saved rom any criminal charges. She had, however, been sacked from her job at the Ministry, Fudge being unable to justify the Ministry employing a supposedly mentally damaged person, but in Harry's opinion she had deserved a lot more than that, time in Azkaban at the least. Where is the justice? Harry thought bitterly. He shook the feeling off with difficulty and continued reading.  
  
Anyway, has Hermione owled you and told you about Percy yet? What a complete prat! He came here to get some clothes or something, and Mum told him that she'd forgiven him, and he just ran out without a word to her. She was in a right state I tell you, wouldn't stop crying for hours. What a git! I tell you, if I ever see him when my Mum and Dad aren't around, he's gonna wish he was never born. He's upset my Mum, he's totally cut off his whole bloody family, he's insulted you, and he's on Fudge's side! If he wasn't my brother, I'd kill him! But anyway, enough about Percy, you're doing allright aren't you? I mean, seriously, you're doing okay, aren't you? You know, what with what happened in June? Just remember you're not alone with all this, don't think you've got to deal with this all by yourself, allright? I know I said all this in the last letter I wrote, and the letter before that, but you have to say something about five times to make it stick in that thick head of yours, so you can be guaranteed I'll say all this again in the next few letters I send you. Just remember you don't have to deal with this alone, and you don't have to fight you-know-who by yourself, allright? Good. I'll owl you soon, when we get our OWL results. Don't let the Muggles get you down, before you know it you'll be back at Hogwarts. See you when I see you, Ron.  
  
Harry placed Ron's letter on top of Hermione's and left them on his desk, walking to his window and resting his arms on the windowsill. A light, cool summer breeze drifted around him as he gazed out of the open window and on to the street below.  
  
"You don't have to fight you-know-who by yourself."  
  
Ron's words had got to Harry. Despite what Ron said, Harry knew that ultimately, he would have to fight Voldemort by himself, no matter how much help anyone else gave him. They could fight and help in the war, they could destroy Voldemort's forces, but they could not help Harry fight Voldemort himself. Harry would have to fight that fight alone, in order to stop the war.  
  
War. A real war would be starting soon, and Harry would have to fight in it at some point, whether he liked it or not. He knew that he would not have to fight yet, but eventually, the time would come when he would have to fight, and kill, in battle, in war.  
  
"You are not ready to defeat Voldemort yet Harry, you must grow and mature first, into a man who is capable of killing."  
  
Dumbledore's words, however terrible they sounded to Harry's ears, were true. Harry would have to kill at some point in his life, or he would be murdered himself; he would have to kill or be killed.  
  
Harry opened his window to it's full length and looked directly into the setting sun, making a promise to himself and the world. He vowed to prepare himself as fully as he could for the impending war; he vowed to protect his friends as much as he could, to prevent them from suffering and even death; he vowed to avenge the deaths of the people who had already died at Voldemort's hand, especially his parent's, Cedric Diggory, and Sirius. He vowed to kill Voldemort, whatever it took, and to win the war that was coming. He was right, and he would end this war.  
  
The setting sun sunk below the rooftops of Privet Drive, and as Harry looked down onto the darkening street, one thought remained fixed in his head, the focus and motivation which he hoped would get him through the darkness of the coming years:  
  
He would win this war, no matter what it took. 


	4. Chapter four: Breakthroughs

Harry Potter and the path of war  
  
Chapter four: breakthroughs  
  
Saturday: Remus Lupin: Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts  
Sunday: Nymphadora Tonks: Concealment and Disguise  
Monday: Thomas Anderson: Physical Combat  
Tuesday: Alastor Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt: Duelling  
Wednesday: Severus Snape: The art of Occlumency  
Thursday: Nate Gonzales: Duelling Techniques  
Friday: Severus Snape: The art of Occlumency  
  
Shit, Harry cursed inwardly, as he ran through the timetable of lessons in his memory, remembering what lesson he had today. I wish I had a time turner, he thought desperately, as he walked up Privet Drive at ten to eight in the morning, apparently alone. The sun was hidden behind some light clouds, but they were the only clouds Harry could see in the sky; it promised to be a lovely, hot day. Not that I'll see any of it, Harry thought grumpily, as he turned a corner and entered Gardenia Crescent, I'll be stuck inside with Snape all day.  
  
For it was Friday, which meant that Harry was going to have to suffer another ten hour day with Severus Snape, learning Occlumency. This would be his third lesson with the oily git now, and as far as Harry could see, he was making very slow progress in his Occlumency skills. He could not understand why either; he was trying as hard as he could, and he wasn't letting his hatred towards Snape get in the way of his work (he and Snape had both agreed in the first lesson that they would keep their feelings towards eachother completely out of the Occlumency lessons, and it was helping immensely). Harry had realized that what Snape had said last year was the reason why he had never managed to learn Occlumency at all; because he had been unable to let go of his emotion, his anger towards Snape. But now, with Snape refraining from making snide comments, he was finding it much easier to let go of his emotions, but it did not seem to be making him learn Occlumency quicker.  
  
Harry had been following the programme for over two weeks now. He had had at least one lesson with every one of his teachers and was enjoying every one, except his Occlumency lessons with Snape. Because of Voldemort's mental attack on him two weeks ago, his Occlumency lessons had been upgraded to two a week, which sacfrificed the lesson he was supposed to have with Flynn Booth on a Wednesay. He had never found out who Flynn Booth was and what the lesson with him was actually going to be, but Remus had said it wasn't as important as Harry perfecting Occlumency, so it had been taken off of the programme. The two Order members he had met who were also his teachers, Thomas Anderson and Nate Gonzales, were both friendly enough people, and neither of them had stared fixatedly at his scar when they had met him or held him in awe because he was Harry Potter, which in Harry's opinion made them fantastic people.  
  
He had just about got to grips with the energy and work load the programme required now, which was a lot. The lessons were hard work, but the great feeling of accomplishment Harry felt at the end of each one drowned out his body's protests about how hard it was. In the short time he had been following the programme, Harry felt like he had learnt more than he ever had at Hogwarts, and he was becoming increasingly more confident in his magic and abilities. He had managed to set out a relatively exhausting routine for himself for each day now; he would get up up at ten to six, go running with Remus, go to Mrs Figg's at eight o'clock for whatever lesson he had that day, until six o'clock when Remus would walk him back to the Dursleys, when he would use Dudley's exercise machines for two to three hours, have dinner and collapse into bed around ten o'clock. It may have been exhausting him, but Harry loved it; for once, he was actually enjoying his summer at Privet Drive, and doing something productive.  
  
But there was still something missing. He could feel it in the back of his mind all the time, like there was something missing that should have been there, regardless of whatever else happened. And he knew what it was.  
  
Letters from Sirius.  
  
"Are you okay, Harry? You look like you're in another world." Harry jumped, as Remus's anxious voice cut through his thoughts; he had forgotten that he was there, he had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts. He turned to Remus, who was looking at him with a concerned look on his face.  
  
"Yeah, I'm fine, just thinking. You know, about Snape and stuff." Remus grimaced, and then nodded, putting on a professional face.  
  
"Thinking about Snape? Ah, so you were in another world then. Tell me, is hell all it's cracked up to be?" Remus said, his professional facade cracking as he began to laugh.  
  
Harry laughed as well, effectively broken out of his deep thoughts. He was glad to see Remus laugh; he didn't laugh enough, although he seemed to be doing more of it now than he had used to.  
  
Over the last few weeks, Harry had detected a change in Remus. He seemed more relaxed, more easy-going than he had used to be, and he was making jokes and messing around with Harry more and more. Harry had never seen him like this. He had always seemed so sad; sad and tired, as if there was something holding him back from being him all the time, but now he seemed less tired, and less sad as well, as if what had been holding him back had gone. He just seemed. . .happy. Harry could not understand why; they were about to go into a war with Voldemort, where people were no doubt going to be killed, maybe even people they knew, and Remus seemed to be happier than Harry had ever seen him. He couldn't understand it at all. He glanced at Remus now, who was still chuckling softly at his own joke. He really did seem happy, and even if he didn't understand why, Harry was glad for him. He smiled, and returned his eyes to the path in front of him, which quickly wiped the smile off his face.  
  
They had arrived at Mrs Figg's house, which meant, Harry realized with a sinking feeling, Occlumency with Snape. For ten hours. Harry groaned and shut his eyes, wishing that this was a dream and he could wake up on a day other than a Wednesday or Friday.  
  
"Come on Harry, you're going to be late," Remus said beside him. Harry opened his eyes with a grimace and walked up Mrs Figg's porch steps to her front door with Remus, bracing himself for the horrors that awaited him inside. Remus knocked on the door in his usual smart manner, and it was opened immediately by Snape, who looked at them with such a smirk on his face that Harry wanted nothing more than to wipe it off with his fist.  
  
"Well, well, Potter, on time for once in your life. I suppose we've got your babysitter to thank for that. Quickly, get inside, both of you." Harry felt compelled to stroll slowly through the door just to infuriate Snape, but remembering what was more important, he resisted the urge and quickly entered the house, Remus in front of him.  
  
As soon as he was through the door, Snape flicked his wand and the door slammed shut behind Harry, who felt the wind from the force of the door slamming on his face. When it slammed shut, Snape flicked his wand again and the many locks quickly locked themselves. He then turned to Remus.  
  
"Lupin, you'll be back at six, sharp. Understood?" Snape said, as if it was his idea for the lesson to end at six o'clock. Remus looked impassively back at him.  
  
"Yes, Severus, six o'clock. See you then, Harry." Snape nodded at him and swept into Mrs Figg's living room. Remus grimaced and gave Harry a thumbs up. Harry returned the grimace and gave Remus a thumbs down. Remus laughed loudly, and Apparated away. Harry stared at the place where Remus had Apparated from for a minute, took a deep breath, turned around, and entered the living room.  
  
Snape was standing by the fireplace, his wand held firmly by his side. He was staring at Harry, his face an emotionless mask. This was how he always looked during their lessons together; after Remus had left, Harry never saw any trace of anger, loathing, dislike or any other emotion cross Snape's face until after the lesson had ended at six o'clock. It was like being taught by a robot.  
  
"Wand out Potter."  
  
Harry withdrew his wand from the waistband of his baggy, baggy jeans and faced Snape. Snape stared back at him.  
  
"Now, we'll be carrying on from where we left off on Wednesday. You remember, don't you?" Harry nodded shortly. "Get into position then. I will strike on the count of five."  
  
Harry took a step backwards and held his wand tightly. He closed his eyes and willed himself to forget everything, to let go of all emotion. Nothing is real, nothing is real. . . he dimly heard Snape's voice counting up to five as if from a long distance away, and a white space was growing behind his eyes, starting to cover up all of the blackness that he usually saw when he shut his eyes. . .  
  
"Legilimens!"  
  
Harry's concentration was broken, the white space behind his eyes turned quickly back to black, and images began to flash through his mind.  
  
Ron and Hermione were tied up underwater to the tail of a stone merperson, their heads lolling onto their shoulders. . . a huge three- headed dog was inches away from him, Ron, Hermione and Neville, and it was growling murderously at them. . . a solid wall of gigantic spiders were closing in on him and Ron, their pincers clicking madly. . . . wide, gleaming eyes were staring out of a dark alleyway in Magnolia Crescent. . . Sirius was falling through a ragged veil, which was fluttering very slightly, and a suprised and fearful look was on Sirius's face. . .  
  
Sirius! A voice in Harry's head said suddenly, and abruptly the flashing images stopped, leaving his mind clear. Harry opened his eyes, and was confronted with Mrs Figg's living room and Snape, who was pointing his wand at him, a concentrated expression on his face. Harry raised his wand.  
  
"Expelliarmus!"  
  
Snape stumbled backwards, and his wand flew out of his hand and high into the air, in a graceful arc. Harry caught it deftly in his left hand, dropped both his and Snape's wands, and collapsed to the floor, suddenly light-headed and dizzy.  
  
Harry heard footsteps move swiftly over Mrs Figg's creaky floorboards, heard a muttered spell, and instantly his head and mind felt clear again, the light-headedness gone. Looking up, he could see Snape's face looming over him, his long greasy hair hanging down in front of his face. He was staring hard at Harry, showing no emotion whatsoever. Continuing to keep his emotionless mask in place, he held out a pale hand to help Harry up. Harry hesitated for a minute and then took it, hoisting himself up and letting go of Snape as quick as he could; his hand was strangely cold.  
  
Snape was still staring at him. "What happened Potter?" he said, letting a note of interest enter his voice. "How did you block it?" Harry swallowed.  
  
I. . ." Harry swallowed again. His throat felt tight. "Well, that is, there was a white space, and. . .um.. and then I saw. . . Sirius," he finished, not wanting to say his godfather's name, especially in front of Snape. Harry looked down, the half-forgotten feeling of emptiness without Sirius threatening to consume him again. He wanted to fall asleep, to go to sleep and never wake up, or to hit something really hard at the unfairness of it all, at the injustice of Sirius's death.  
  
But he couldn't do this now, Harry told himself sternly. He couldn't fall apart in front of Snape. That would be weakness, and Snape thought he was weak enough anyway. He looked up at him now, daring him to say a callous remark about Sirius; but Snape's face was still an emotionless mask.  
  
"Compose yourself, Potter," he said simply, and swept to the other side of Mrs Figg's living room. Harry had no doubt that Snape had seen the image of Sirius's death too. He must have done, Harry thought to himself. He had not made any comment about any images he had seen in their lessons this summer, but Snape had seen some of Harry's memories when he had been teaching Harry Occlumency at Hogwarts; he had admitted it as well, when he had asked who Ripper, Aunt Marge's dog, had belonged to. So he had to have seen the image of Sirius's death. Harry didn't think he could take it if Snape made a snide comment about Sirius now; he would blow him to pieces if he did.  
  
He sat down heavily on Mrs Figg's murky green sofa and put his head in his hands. He had never seen the image of Sirius falling through the veil before during his Occlumency lessons with Snape. He had seen it in his nightmares, and sometimes in horrible daydreams that were almost halucinations, but never before had he been shown it through the Legilimens spell. And now the image of Sirius dying would be firmly at the front of his mind for the rest of the day. He doubted he would get anywhere in his Occlumency skills today, in this state. He might as well just tell Snape he was going home and leave. . .  
  
No, Harry said firmly to himself. I'm not going to mope around and get all depressed. Sirius wouldn't want me to do that. And he wouldn't want Snape to get the better of me either. That thought made Harry laugh slightly, thinking of what Sirius would say if he could see him now, thinking of giving up at the first hurdle, at accepting defeat to Snape. That's not what Sirius would have done, and that's not what I'm going to do. I won't let him down. I made a promise.  
  
Harry pulled his head out of his hands and stood up, and went to tell Snape he was ready to carry on. Turning, he saw that Snape was just about to walk back towards him anyway. He nodded briefly at Harry, and stepped away from the table he had been leaning on and strode back towards Harry.  
  
"How did you block it?" he asked again. Harry took a deep breath, and began to talk.  
  
"When you said that you were going to strike on the count of five, I closed my eyes and tried to let go of all my emotion and feelings. I think I nearly managed it this time as well. I could still hear you counting up towards five, but it sounded like you were a long way away, or underwater or something, and there was a white, blank space behind my eyes. . . it's hard to explain. It's never happened before when we've done this. It's like, when you usually shut your eyes, all you see is black, but the black I was used to seeing was slowly turning from black to bright white, like from the middle outwards. It was nearly covering all of my, er, inner sight, or whatever it is that you, um, see when your eyes are closed, when your voice casting the spell broke my concentration. The white light turned back to black, and then the images started to flash, and. . well, you know what happened then," Harry finished, looking Snape in the eye.  
  
Snape was staring back at him, his emotionless mask firmly fixed. He slowly shook his head.  
  
"Yes Potter, I know 'what happened then,' but I do not know how you blocked the curse eventually, how you stopped the images and broke through the spell enough to cast a disarming charm. What snapped you out of it?" he asked, his emotionless stance slipping slightly as another glimpse of interest appeared in his voice.  
  
Harry swallowed again, and looked at the ground. He did not want to talk about Sirius to anyone, let alone Snape, Sirius's sworn enemy. But he had to, if he wanted to succeed in perfecting Occlumency and blocking Voldemort from his mind. Harry took another deep breath, and continued.  
  
"The last image I saw, of. . of Sirius. When that flashed through my mind, a voice in my head said 'Sirius,' and then my mind was clear. The images stopped flashing through my mind, and I could see this living room again, and you pointing your wand at me. I thought the most effective way to stop the spell would be to disarm you, so I did. When I caught your wand, I felt dizzy and light-headed, and I couldn't stand. My legs just seemed to give out from underneath me." He looked up at Snape again, who was staring at the wall behind the sofa Harry was standing in front of. Harry coughed slightly, and Snape's vison turned to him.  
  
"Potter, this is clearly an improvement. You were able to successfully block the spell, eventually, and you were almost able to let go of your emotion and block out everything around you, which shows your inner control is growing, but you slipped up at the last minute. We're going to have to work on that. Simple things like someone saying an incantation cannot be allowed to break an Occlumen's focus."  
  
Snape paused, as if considering something, though he made no sign or action to show that this was the case. "The light-headedness you felt after breaking the connection caused by my spell is to be expected in an amateur Occlumen's first successful attempt at blocking the Legilimens spell. The disarming charm you performed did nothing but intensify the feeling of dizziness you felt, and remember Potter; your final goal is to be able to repel people from your mind without resorting to using your wand. Focus on repelling me with your mind, not your wand. Will me out of your head. Do not waste time going through what spells would be effective in breaking the connection; when you are fully-trained, spells will not be a factor in this.  
  
"Now," said Snape, drawing himself up and pulling out his wand. "You will need a short rest after what you have just done. I have some business to clear up, that will not take long to conduct. I will be back at eight forty-five, by that clock," Snape said, gesturing to Mrs Figg's huge, antique grandfather clock, which at the moment stated that it was twenty past eight. "While I am gone Potter, brainstorm some ideas in your head which may help you in blocking the Legilimens spell. Keep your mind focused on Occlumency."  
  
Snape Apparated away, and Harry sat down hard on Mrs Figg's small sofa, sighing deeply. It was going to be a long day. . .  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
A white light was covering the blackness, enveloping the corners of his eyelids as he willed himself to forget everything. Nothing is real, nothing is real. . .  
  
"Legilimens!"  
  
Harry barely heard the curse, it seemed quieter than ever. The white light did not fade this time at the sound of Snape saying the incantation, but as the curse made contact, his concentration was broken, and the images began.  
  
Ron was being hit over the head by a white chess queen carved out of stone, and crashing to the ground. . . Umbridge was smiling her revolting toadlike smile as the cut on Harry's hand burst open yet again, as he wrote I must not tell lies. . . Fawkes was flying along the Chamber of Secrets towards him, Ginny and Tom Riddle. . .  
  
Harry shook his head, trying to remember what to do. . . he was supposed to do something, to stop what was happening, but what was it? He couldn't remember, the images were flashing too fast. . . Tonks was falling down the stone steps in the Department of Mysteries. . .  
  
Repel him, a voice said in Harry's head, a voice that sounded, Harry noted, similar to the voice he heard when he was breaking through the Imperius curse. Repel him.  
  
Yes, the other half of Harry's brain said, I will repel him. Harry shook his head again, and the images stopped; his mind was cleared, and he opened his eyes to see the now familiar sight of Mrs Figg's living room, and Snape with his wand trained on him.  
  
Harry raised his wand, ready to disarm Snape and end the connection, when the voice in his head returned. But this time, the voice was Snape's, although the Snape in front of him was not saying anything.  
  
Repel me with your mind, not your wand. . .will me out of your head. . .  
  
Harry lowered his wand, and concentrated on willing Snape out of his head, glaring at the Snape in front of him. He could feel the interference in his mind, probing his mind for his feelings and memories, and he concentrated all his thoughts solely upon forcing the interference out of his mind. He could feel the probing getting weaker, striving to reach his memories and feelings, and he fully concentrated his will on pushing it out of his mind, and with one last push, he felt the interference dissolve, and fade away. He saw Snape's eyes widen in suprise, and a second later Snape's wand flew out of his hand with considerable force, hitting the dull grey wall behind him and sliding to the floor. Harry fell to the floor as well, his mind and body numb.  
  
In what felt like a second later, he found himself laying on his back on Mrs Figg's sofa. He distantly heard Snape's quiet voice above him mutter a spell, the incantation for it much longer than any spell he had previously heard, and felt the numbness he had felt on most of his body and mind fade away.  
  
Harry sat up, and shook his head hard to make sure he was totally okay. When he was satisfied he was in working order, he stood up slowly and looked around the room; Snape was sitting at the table on the other side of the living room, looking at the clock on the wall, which read six o'clock in the evening. When Snape had gone over to the table Harry did not know.  
  
Snape looked at him with his usual emotionless mask in place, and said, "that was another clear improvement, Potter. It seems you are finally getting to grips with this. You must not push yourself too far too quickly however, that will get you nowhere. What you need to do is work on your concentration before the spell begins to probe, and your reaction time in realising what has to be done to stop it. Remember what I told you about the fine lines between emotional and mental ignorance levels.  
  
"That concludes our lesson for today," he said, standing up and holding his wand firmly in his hand. "I will see you on Wednesday. Do not forget to practice clearing your mind before you go to sleep at night, and remember; if you do not practice, we will simply be back to where we started two weeks ago. You must stay focused." He Apparated away, leaving Harry alone in the living room.  
  
Harry glared at the table which Snape had just Apparated away from. Snape may have been holding back insults in their lessons, but he was still a slimy snake in Harry's book, and he still hated him. He made a rude hand gesture at the space which Snape had just Apparated away from and sunk back into the sofa, closing his eyes.  
  
He was immensely relieved that his Occlumency lesson was over for the day. In Harry's opinion, it had been the most intense and exhausting lesson of the programme he had done so far. When Snape had arrived back at Mrs Figg's at quarter to nine this morning, they had began a nine-hour long non- stop practice of Occlumency, which consisted of Snape putting the Legilimens spell on Harry, Harry breaking through it and collapsing, having a five-minute rest, and trying again. They hadn't stopped this routine once for the whole nine hours, and Harry was exhausted.  
  
But it had worked, Harry reasoned. He had definitely progressed much further then he had in his previous lessons, where he had seemed to have some sort of block preventing him from progressing any further. He seemed to have got past that now, and Harry was confident that he was going to progress much faster now that he had. He sighed in deeply and closed his eyes, his feeling of accomplishment and the comfort of the sofa drowning out the protests of his tired mind and body. He could just lay here forever. . .  
  
"Harry, it's time to go."  
  
Harry opened his eyes immediately and jumped up, drawing his wand from the waistband of his trousers as he did so and pointing it at the doorway. He relaxed when he saw it was just Remus, and lowered his wand.  
  
"Don't do that Remus, you scared the life out of me! I was just about to curse you out of the door!" exclaimed Harry. Remus chuckled.  
  
"Oh, were you Harry? Curse me out of the door, eh? Guess I'm lucky you realized it was me then, otherwise I'd be about an inch back from where I'm standing now," he said, looking mischievously at him. Harry smiled, realizing that Remus was just messing around with him.  
  
"Well, it would serve you right for never getting knackered when we go running," Harry said, good-naturedly but also somewhat grumpily. Remus laughed.  
  
"Well what do you expect Harry, if you go running with a werewolf? Which reminds me. . ." Remus said, his voice becoming more serious, "I won't be able to go running with you for the next few days. It's the full moon on Sunday. Your lesson with me tomorrow is off as well."  
  
Harry nodded. This would be the second full moon Remus had been through since Harry's summer had began (the first one had been just a few days after he had returned to Privet Drive from Hogwarts). Harry had found out from Remus that Snape was still making the Wolfsbane Potion for him, and had been even after he had got Remus sacked from Hogwarts. Harry reckoned that Dumbledore was forcing Snape to make it, or something.  
  
"Are we off straight away then?" he asked Remus, tucking his wand back into the waistband of his trousers. Sometimes Mrs Figg cooked them both dinner after Harry's lessons, when she was here. Most of the time however, Mrs Figg wasn't there; she wasn't there when he arrived for his lessons in the morning, and the majority of the time wasn't there when he finished. Harry had no idea where she went everyday. Remus nodded.  
  
"Yes, and we need to hurry as well, I need to be at Grimmauld Place at exactly six-thirty for some Wolfsbane Potion," Remus said, striding towards the door and pulling on his Invisibility Cloak. It made no difference to Harry; there was a charm on the Cloak that meant Harry could see anyone who was wearing it. Remus unlocked the door and wrenched it open, and they stepped into the sun's bright rays, the door shutting by itself quietly behind them.  
  
They did not speak much as they walked through Wisteria Walk. As it was a hot, mid-summers evening, there were still a lot of people around in the streets; some little boys were playing football on the large front gardens outside the houses, and a group of little girls were skipping and playing hopskotch on a chalk-drawn hopskotch on the pavement beside the road, while their parents kept an eye on them and chatted to eachother. Harry wondered what he and Remus must have looked like; a rough-looking teenager who they all thought went to a young offender's institution and, despite the heat, a scruffy-looking man wearing a long, thick trenchcoat, walking through and disrupting this typical Surrey neighbourhood scene.  
  
Watching them, Harry wondered what his life would be like if he had never been a wizard and found out about the wizarding world. If his parents had been Muggles, would he have grown up happily, like these children? Would he have been a teenager with normal problems, like school and girls, instead of having to worry about whether he was up to the task of killing someone when he was older? If he had been born a Muggle, would he have seen as much evil in his entire lifetime as he had seen in this life in fifteen short years? Would he have had to fight evil and save people's lives before he was even old enough to get a real job? Or was it simply his fate to fight?  
  
As Harry contemplated this and carried on walking, he saw a sudden movement out of the corner of his eye. Looking to his right, he saw, in a alleyway seperating two houses's gardens, three tall, black-robed figures, with white masks, staring right at him.  
  
Harry felt his stomach churn horribly, and his heart began to beat faster. He turned to look at Remus, who hadn't noticed the Death Eaters yet. Remus turned to him and opened his mouth to say something, but stopped short as he noticed the Death Eaters in the alleyway, who were still not making any movement; they seemed to be waiting for something. Harry looked again at Remus in panic.  
  
"They can't see me," Remus said quietly, as Harry suddenly realized this as well, "they don't know I'm here. Make no action that suggests otherwise. Look at the ground, pretend you're tying your shoelaces, but keep an eye trained on them for any movement."  
  
Harry did what Remus said, his stomach churning even more as he glimpsed the happy adults and children out of the corner of his eye as he ducked his head, blissfully unaware of the danger that was so close to them. The Death Eaters were here for him, Harry realized. That could be the only reason they were here, in Little Whinging. If anything happened to these people, Harry could never forgive himself. . . .  
  
Remus had crouched down next to Harry and appeared to be pressing something hard into his chest, underneath his thick trenchcoat. Harry heard him say an incantation, which contained his name, and then began to spoke in an urgent whisper. Harry strove his ears to hear what he was saying.  
  
"Everyone, drop everything and get to Arabella's house now. This is urgent; there are Death Eaters here. Someone press when you're there." Remus relaxed his hold on whatever he was pushing on under his trenchcoat and stayed crouched in the street. A second later, he pressed on his trenchcoat in the same place again and continued speaking in a low whisper.  
  
"Those of you without Invisibility Cloaks, stay at Arabella's and guard the house. Those with Invisibility Cloaks, use the back door and get round the front of the house. You will see Harry about two hundred yards down the street. Make straight for him, and stop when you feel me press you. Over."  
  
Remus straightened up and moved in front of Harry, so that if the Death Eaters tried to fire anything at him he would be protected. Harry went to move to the side, refusing to let Remus put himself at risk for his sake, but Remus muttered softly, "don't Harry. Please."  
  
Remus's pleading voice stopped Harry in his tracks. He couldn't understand why Remus was so set in protecting him. "Why?" he said softly, risking a quick full glance at the Death Eaters; they were still staring intently at him, but making no movement whatsoever. Remus sighed, and when he spoke, Harry thought his voice sounded tired and weary, something Remus had not seemed to be for weeks.  
  
"I. . I can't lose you, Harry. You're all I've got left," he said, his voice going suspiciously scratchy at the end. Harry did not know what to say; he wasn't good at handling other people's emotions, especially when they concerned him, so he just said what he thought was the safest answer.  
  
"Okay." He saw Remus smile. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by a huge explosion, and turning, Harry and Remus saw a house further down the street from them burst into flames.  
  
"WAND OUT HARRY!" Remus screamed, over the sound of the explosion and the screams of the Muggles in the street. Harry jumped up and out from behind Remus and withdrew his wand in a second, and not a moment too soon; turning, he saw the Death Eaters who had been standing motionless in the alley sprinting towards him and Remus.  
  
"STUPEFY!" Harry screamed without a second thought, pointing his wand directly at the Death Eater in front, who went straight down face first onto the hard concrete as Harry's spell hit him full-force in the face. It did not stop the other two though, who stopped ten feet from him and both shot stunning spells at him.  
  
"Protego!" cried Harry, and the Death Eater's stunning spells shot back at them. They both dodged them, and with a loud BANG! The tallest of the two sent thick black ropes out of his wand towards Harry; they were evidently trying to capture him without harming him.  
  
Harry was not ready this time. He raised his wand to attempt to banish the ropes hurtling towards him, but they were too close now, they were going to be around him in a second, the Death Eaters would have won. . .  
  
"Incendio!"  
  
The thick black ropes burst into flames inches from Harry's face, and Harry jumped back to avoid getting burnt. He made a mental note to thank Remus later for that, and turned back to the two remaining Death Eaters, who were looking around suspiciously for who had set their ropes on fire.  
  
"Aperio," one of them hissed, and Remus's Invisibility Cloak flew off, leaving him standing there with his wand trained on the two Death Eaters. They both turned to him with their wands raised, but Harry and Remus were faster.  
  
"Expelliarmus!" Remus cried at the same time that Harry screamed, "Stupefy!"  
  
Both of the Death Eater's wands flew into the air and into Remus's outstretched hand, and one of the Death Eaters fell down, stunned. Remus broke the wands over his knee and quickly stunned the other Death Eater. He then pressed his trenchcoat down again and said urgently, "where the hell are you? Get out here now!" seconds later, several Cracks sounded around them, and then a voice sounded out of the air close to Harry.  
  
"We're here Remus," Charlie Weasley's voice said from the thin air, as Harry couldn't see him. Remus however did seem able to see him, and he seemed to be able to see others as well, as he looked around where he and Harry were stood and nodded a few times. "What do you need us to do?" Charlie's disembodied voice said.  
  
"You, Argust and Hestia get down to that burning house, check there's no- one inside, make sure the blaze is under control for the Muggle fire people. Tonks, you and Emmeline start administrating Memory Charms to these Muggles," Remus said, gesturing with his hand up the street.  
  
Harry turned, having forgotten about the Muggles who had been outside when the house down the street had burst into flames; they must have seen his and Remus's battle with the Death Eaters, Harry realized. None of them seemed hurt in any way though, Harry saw with relief. They did however seem frightened beyond belief, and were staring at Harry and Remus as if they were aliens from another planet. Some of the women had their mouths open in silent screams, and many of the children were crying.  
  
Soon however their faces were completely blank, as cries of "Obliviate!" rang across Wisteria Walk, and another spell that Harry didn't recognise, but which seemed to make them all go back into their houses and shut all their blinds and curtains.  
  
"Evanesco."  
  
Harry jumped, and turning, he saw that Remus had just vanished his Invisibility Cloak. He then turned to Harry.  
  
"Harry, we've got to move these," Remus said, gesturing with his foot to the stunned Death Eaters at their feet. "I think it's better if we do it physically, in case anymore Muggles are looking."  
  
Harry nodded, and picked up the nearest Death Eater's legs as Remus picked up his shoulders and upper body. Together they carried him into the alley the Death Eaters had run out from and laid him down on the pavement. They did the same with the second Death Eater, and when they turned over the last Death Eater, who was laying face down on the pavement, Harry thought he was going to be sick.  
  
The man's mask had shattered when he had hit the pavement, which he must have done face first, and there was blood pouring down the man's face. His jaw looked like it had taken the impact of the blow, and was totally destroyed now; there seemed to be chunks of skin missing from it, and Harry thought he could see a bit of bone protuding out of the ruined jawline.  
  
Remus looked sick as well, and slightly green, but shook his head and turned to Harry with a grim expression. "Come on Harry, we've got to move him," he said, putting his hand under the Death Eater's shoulders and pulling him up into a grotesque position that made him look like he was sitting up straight with his legs stretched out. Harry took a deep breath and grabbed hold of the man's legs, and he and Remus heaved him into the air between them and carried him into the alley.  
  
They were just setting him down next to the other two stunned Death Eaters when a deep, authoritative voice rang out behind them, booming, "STOP IN THE NAME OF THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC!"  
  
Harry and Remus turned, to see several witches and wizards in scarlet robes sprinting up the alley towards them; Harry did not recognize any of them.  
  
They reached Harry and Remus and stopped, looking in wonder at the three Death Eaters laying stunned at their feet, many of their faces paling at the sight of the Death Eater with the ruined jawbone. A tall man with short black hair and sharp-looking eyes, who looked like the leader of the group to Harry, dragged his eyes away from the Death Eaters and turned to Harry and Remus.  
  
"Did you two do this?" he asked, looking suspiciously at the two of them. He did a double take when he took a longer look at Harry.  
  
"Harry Potter?" he said quietly. Harry nodded, but did not say anything. The other witches and wizards all gasped and began whispering behind their hands to each other. The tall man however looked at Remus.  
  
"Who are you?" he demanded. Remus looked steadily back at him.  
  
"Remus Lupin. I am Harry's minder." The man glared at him.  
  
"Minder? He's Harry Potter, he doesn't need a minder! Who's going to try and attack him, apart from You-Know-Who?" Remus, not taking his eyes off the man for a second, gestured with his hand at the unconscious Death Eaters.  
  
"Voldemort's followers also pose a threat to Harry; he is not a superhero. Evidently, he does need a minder. Now, we don't have time to argue amongst themselves in here. A house is on fire out there, which I believe is the Death Eater's work and which may mean there are more Death Eaters out there, which means this area needs to be sealed off, anti- Apparition wards and the like. Muggles also saw myself and Harry fighting the Death Eaters; a mass Memory Charm needs to be performed on this area." The man continued to glare at Remus.  
  
"It is not up to you to issue orders for the Ministry of Magic," he growled, but nevertheless he turned around and began to speak to the other witches and wizards.  
  
"Anthony, call in the MMC's and and tell them to Apparate to me right now. Doon, call in Nartisha's team and get them here as well. The rest of you, seal off this area, two miles in each direction." The witches and wizards all nodded straight away and ran out of the alley. The man turned back to Harry and Remus.  
  
"I have already dispatched a team to the house you described. The Muggle firefighters are already there, and they have the blaze under control. The Mass Memory Charmers will be here soon, as will a team who can take these three in," he said, kicking the nearest Death Eater to him. He then started suddenly, as if he had remembered something important, and he turned back to Remus. "You say that you both fought the Death Eaters?" he said, glancing anxiously at Harry. Remus nodded.  
  
The man looked grim, and he turned to look at Harry. "Then the Minister will be here soon as well."  
  
Harry's stomach went cold. He had forgotten, in the heat of the moment, that he was underage and was not allowed to use magic outside of school. He had been using it all summer at Mrs Figg's, but that was because of the powerful charms around her house that prevented the Ministry from detecting it; there were no charms stopping detection in the middle of the street in Wisteria Walk, and Harry had little hope that Fudge would see sense and realize that he did not have any other choice; it was either defend himself, or be captured by Death Eaters.  
  
"Harry." Harry turned to Remus, who was looking at him with a concerned expression. "This will all get sorted out. Fudge cannot possibly put charges against you over this." Harry nodded, trying to look braver than he felt. Remus squeezed his shoulder briefly and turned away, and began to talk quickly and quietly to the tall man.  
  
Harry sat down on the alleyway floor and leant against the wall behind him, closing his eyes and trying to calm himself down. Remus is right, he said to himself, I only used magic out of self-defence, that's how I got out of it last summer as well, they can't expel me for this, they can't, they just can't.  
  
He fought down the bile that was rising in his throat, and tried to forget it all. His stomach did a particularly violent churn as he did so, and Harry nearly threw up. He couldn't get expelled from Hogwarts, he just couldn't. His stomach churned again, and Harry felt like both crying and screaming in anger at the same time. He scrunched his eyes shut even harder, and tried to forget again.  
  
He was distracted from his thoughts when he felt something land lightly in his lap, and opening his eyes, he saw a screech owl flying smoothly out of the alleyway away from him. Looking down, he saw a large parchment envelope with an important looking seal on it, that was richly decorated and had the letters MOM on it. Harry gulped.  
  
Harry lifted his head and looked around. No-one had noticed him recieving the letter; Remus was talking to some serious-looking wizards in white robes about the streets surrounding Wisteria Walk, and the leader of what Harry assumed were the Aurors was now talking urgently to a new group of scarlet-robed witches and wizards who had just Apparated into the alley, something about moving the stunned Death Eaters to the Ministry of Magic. With shaking hands, Harry ripped open the envelope, pulled out the letter and began to read, his stomach churning horribly as he did so.  
  
Dear Mr Potter,  
We have recieved intelligence that tonight you were attacked by three magical wizard terrorists, who commonly go by the name of Death Eaters, and that you performed several spells and curses against them, in a Muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of approximately nineteen Muggles, from the time of eight minutes past six to ten minutes past six.  
It is understood to us that you were acting in self-defence, and we have thus accepted this as your reason for breaching both the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and section 13 of the International Confederation of Warlocks' Statute of Secrecy, and thus no further charges or action will be taken against you concerning this event.  
However, in response to this event, the exceptional circumstances you are placed in, and discussions with the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, the Ministry of Magic has decided that, with regards to your safety, you are exempted forthwith from the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery. Your presence is required at the Ministry of Magic at 7 a.m tomorrow morning, to sign your name and show that you agree with this decision.  
Please note, Mr Potter, that this exemption from the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery does not mean you are now legally of age in the wizarding world; all other underage laws and legislation still apply to you. Please note also that if you abuse this privilege, the Ministry of Magic will have no hesistation in placing you under the Decree again and expelling you immediately from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for the magic you performed tonight.  
With best wishes,  
Yours sincerly,  
Malfada Hopkirk  
Improper Use of Magic Office  
Ministry of Magic  
  
Harry dropped the letter to the ground and breathed a loud sigh of relief, unable to contain it because of his high emotions. He couldn't believe it; he was not expelled, and he was allowed to do magic outside of Hogwarts! Not just at Mrs Figg's, but anywhere! How the hell did this get past Fudge? Harry wondered, completely amazed. It was crazy, Harry thought; Fudge hated him, he thought that Harry was a lying, delusional headcase, how could this decision have been made with him as Minister of Magic?  
  
But he didn't really care; all he knew was that he was going back to Hogwarts, and could do magic out of school without having to worry about the Ministry expelling him! Harry smiled, feeling like he was on top of the world.  
  
"Harry? What's this?" Remus said above him. Harry looked up at him, unable to stop grinning, and handed Remus the letter. Remus shook his head. He looked very alarmed.  
  
"No Harry, I haven't got time, just tell me quickly what it says, I have to get to Grimmauld Place in under the next three minutes for my Wolfsbane Potion." Harry's jaw dropped, all thoughts about the letter from the Ministry forgotten; he had forgotten that Remus had to take his Wolfsbane Potion at half past six. Harry shook his head.  
  
"Look, it dosen't matter what it says, I'll tell you when you get back. You are coming back afterwards aren't you?" Harry said, not wanting to deal with all the Ministry wizards by himself, who were undoubtedly going to want to ask him questions about the battle with the Death Eaters. Remus nodded dismissively, as if it was a stupid thing to ask.  
  
"Of course I am. But tell me now what the letter says, I want to know what's happening."  
  
"I'm not going to get done for the magic I used against the Death Eaters, and I'm allowed to do magic outside of school now." Remus's mouth dropped, and he shook his head and smiled. He gripped Harry by the shoulder and said, "Harry, that's wonderful news! I knew they couldn't do anything with this, it was pure self-defence. Listen, I've got to go, stay here, I'll be back in five minutes, okay?" Harry nodded seriously, and promised he would. Remus looked fondly at him, and Apparated away.  
  
Harry put his head in his hands and breathed deeply. The day was finally catching up with him, and he felt exhaustion slowly taking over his body. He watched as the Aurors binded the still-stunned Death Eaters bodies tightly and placed spells on them, and as the white-robed wizards spoke urgently together, about measurements and distances around Wisteria Walk and the surrounding area. He was glad that there they were all too busy at the moment to notice him; he didn't feel up to a group of witches and wizards gawping at him.  
  
"Um, Mr Potter?"  
  
Harry started, and looked up. A young, scarlet-robed witch was standing above him, looking down at him. She had shoulder length black hair, and dark brown eyes. Harry stood up, and saw a Level one Auror badge pinned on to her robes. She looked at him with a smile. Harry smiled uncertainly back.  
  
"I just wanted to say, Mr Potter, thank you for telling the truth about You-Know-Who's return last year. For what it's worth, I believed you and Albus Dumbledore from the start." She held out her hand for Harry to shake, almost shyly, Harry thought. He shook it, and quickly let go. Her smile faltered.  
  
"I'm sorry if I bothered you," she muttered, and turned to walk back to where her colleagues were still placing spells on the Death Eater's bodies. Harry felt an odd feeling rise inside of him, and he blurted out, "wait!"  
  
The girl turned around, looking at Harry with a confused expression. She did not leave however.  
  
"Look, I'm not very comfortable with these kind of situations," Harry said to his shoes. "You didn't bother me, it's just, you know, I'm not a hero," he mumbled. He looked up, expecting to see the girl laughing, but instead she was smiling softly at him.  
  
"I never said you were," she said quietly, "I was just saying thank you for telling the truth. And I think you're more of a hero than you realise. You give people hope." She smiled at him again, and walked slowly back towards the other Aurors.  
  
Harry watched her go, feeling the now-familiar feeling of responsibility weigh down heavily on his shoulders. But this time it was lessened slightly. He felt like he finally had an answer for the question he had been pondering since that night in June in Dumbledore's office; did he really want to fight Voldemort? It felt like he had more of a purpose now, for fighting and defeating Voldemort; to save people like her. For over a year, he had thought that everyone in the wizarding world had thought he was an attention-seeking show-off, when there had been people all along who had known that he was telling the truth, who had believed in him.  
  
The girl had said that he gave people hope. He felt like that comment had just summed up the answer to the question he had been pondering, and what the prophecy really meant; he was the one that everyone and everything depended on, he was the one who would have to end the war, and kill Voldemort.  
  
But, strange as it felt, when Harry thought of people like that young Auror, who said that he gave them hope, the weight of responsibility didn't feel as heavy as before, and he didn't feel as alone as he used to; people believed in him, he gave them hope.  
  
And for Harry, that was enough. 


	5. Chapter five: The Line of the Protectors

Harry Potter and the path of war  
  
Chapter five: The Line of the Protectors  
  
"Try again, Harry." Harry growled in frustration.  
  
"It's not working! I'll never be able to learn this, there's no point!"  
  
"Harry, no spell, curse, jinx or charm is impossible, it is merely a question of finding your own personal technique," Nate Gonzales's calm voice said, at some point above him. A hand appeared in front of Harry's face and he took hold of it, using it to help hoist himself off the ground, where he had been knocked down to for the twenty seventh time that day, by a Durus curse cast by his Duelling Techniques teacher Nate Gonzales. Harry shook himself as he stood upright again, and looked steadily at his teacher, who was examining his wand for some unknown reason.  
  
Nate Gonzales was a tall, thin man with long, dirty blond hair, that in Harry's opinion made him look more than a bit like a hippy, and also slightly like Luna Lovegood. However, from what Harry knew, he was not someone to mess with; Remus had told him that he was a new addition to the Order of the Phoenix and that he was a self-employed Hitwizard, and was helping the Order along the same lines as Mundungus Fletcher was; by providing news of what was happening in the seedy underworld of british wizarding society. He was a patient teacher, and seemed to be a very serious man, who was always on edge, but before and after his lessons with Harry he dropped the serious image and was quite relaxed, always joking around with Harry. Harry reckoned this was Nate's real personality, and the seriousness was just an image, to make it easier to teach Harry what he needed to learn. But image or not, Harry didn't mind the seriousness of his lessons with Nate Gonzales; he was a good teacher, and Harry had learned a lot with him since he had begun training with him.  
  
It had been nearly two weeks since the Death Eater attack on Harry in Wisteria Walk, and the aftermath had not been pretty. However, Harry was grateful that at least the Daily Prophet had not got wind of it, which would have made matters a lot worse.  
  
When Remus had returned from taking his Wolfsbane Potion at Grimmauld Place, he and Harry had been informed by the leader of the Aurors (who had introduced himself to Harry as Leo Sutherby) that the Aurors had captured two more Death Eaters at the scene of the burning house, which had blown up at the exact same time that the Death Eaters had launched their attack on Harry. However, he had also informed them that one other Death Eater had got away.  
  
Following three days of intense questioning and bargaining with the Death Eaters, the Magical Law Enforcement (who had put the six Death Eaters in custody in the Ministry of Magic's underground cells) had uncovered an elaborate plan to capture Harry in Wisteria Walk, where he was presumably alone and unprotected by the magic surrounding number four Privet Drive. Harry had learned (in a detailed letter from Amos Diggory, who was now, according to the letter, "Chief of Staff" of the Magical Law Enforcement) that the plan had been concieved over three weeks ago, and prepartions to put it into action had been going on for over a week.  
  
For one stage of the plan, the Death Eaters had monitored Harry's every move outside of number four Privet Drive for a whole week, which was limited to his morning runs and going to Mrs Figg's in the morning at eight o'clock and returning in the evening at six o'clock. The Death Eaters had had orders not to attack Harry at any cost, only to monitor the times he went out and where he went out to. Thankfully, the Death Eaters had never seen Harry enter Mrs Figg's house, which he did every day for his training, and Remus had explained to him that this was because of the charms on Mrs Figg's house, which prevented anyone from seeing anyone who entered it (except Mrs Figg, who had to maintain being seen by the Muggles as a dotty old lady) through some sort of minor Memory Charm. Thus all the Death Eaters knew was that he walked through Wisteria Walk at eight o'clock in the morning and walked back through it at six o'clock in the evening. This was precisely the reason why they had resolved to try and capture Harry in Wisteria Walk, because it was the furthest point away from the Dursley's that they could get to him. They had always thought that Harry was alone as he walked, trusting on the protection of number four to keep him safe; they had never thought of checking for anyone wearing an Invisibility Cloak.  
  
In addition to monitoring Harry's movements, the Death Eaters had put the Imperius Curse on a middle-aged couple at number seven Wisteria Walk, and ordered them to invite their neighbours round for a backyard barbecue party on Friday June the 16th. They had all promised they would attend.  
  
Thus on the evening of Friday June the 16th the plan to capture Harry was to be put into action, as he walked, as the Death Eaters thought, alone through Wisteria Walk in the early evening.  
  
The plan was as follows; the couple who had had the Imperius Curse put on them by the Death Eaters were to greet the neighbours of Wisteria Walk attending the barbecue, which was to begin at five o'clock, and at half past five, were to lock all the neighbours, all Muggles of course, in the living room of the house, including themselves. The Imperius Curse was then taken off of them, and the Death Eaters were permitted, under Voldemort's orders, to "have some fun" with the trapped Muggles until five to six, when the Death Eaters, three in total, were to go into the back garden of the house and wait for the signal to set fire to the house, with the neighbours of Wisteria Walk still inside, and cast the Dark Mark above it.  
  
The signal was to be given by another group of Death Eaters, who were situated in a small alley further up Wisteria Walk, waiting for Harry to walk past where they were, or so they thought, effectively hidden in the shadows of the alley. Once Harry had been seen by the Death Eaters in the alley, the signal to burn the house was to be given. They had chosen number seven Wisteria Walk for it's strategic placement; from where he would be when the signal was given, Harry would without a doubt see the house go up in flames, and in turn hear people screaming. The Death Eaters had expected Harry to run straight to the flaming house and see if he could help save people, and in doing so he would run straight into the clutches of the Death Eaters who had set the house on fire. As they had in June, they had tried to exploit his love of "playing the hero".  
  
However, this time they had had a back-up plan, to ensure that Harry would be captured even if he had chosen not to run to the burning house, which was for the Death Eaters in the alley to capture him. Under no circumstances were any of the Death Eaters permitted to hurt him in any way; their orders had been to disarm and stun only, nothing more. Apparently Voldemort wanted that pleaasure for himself.  
  
However, the Death Eaters in the alley had lost patience, and had attacked Harry mere seconds after the house had been set alight. They had said that they had done this because Harry had paused outside of the alley as he walked past, and they thought it would be the easiest way to capture him, rather than having him run all the way down the street. Under Verisateum they had stuck to this story, but had also confessed that their main motive for doing so was so they could gain favour with Voldemort and rise in the ranks of the Death Eaters. Their plan had failed however, and Harry reckoned they were better off in the custody of the Ministry than with Voldemort, having to explain to him why they had risked the success of an important plan for their own personal needs; Harry shuddered to think what their punishment would have been. On the whole, the Death Eater's plan had completely failed.  
  
The house the Death Eaters had set alight had been completely destroyed, but fortunately it had not contained all the neighbours of Wisteria Walk, as the Death Eaters had intitially wanted. The couple they had impersonated, John and Verity Huxtable, were the most unpopular people in the whole of Little Whinging, and no-one whatsoever had made good on their invitation of a backyard barbecue party. In the end, the Huxtables were the only ones who had been killed by the Death Eaters, and the residents of Wisteria Walk were more upset about the "terrible mess" that the Huxtable houses's chip pan fire had caused than the actual death of the couple.  
  
This was not the case for Harry however, who had started to sink back into depression with the knowledge that the Huxtables, no matter how unpleasant they had been, had died, simply because he was living in Little Whinging. The guilt he had felt had brought fresh waves of grief over the death of Sirius and his involvement in it, but with Remus's help he had pulled himself out of it, although Harry doubted that he would ever stop blaming himself for Sirius's death.  
  
The Death Eater's attack had had an effect on and changed Harry's routine as well. He was now (following a extremely difficult shortening spell, performed by Moody) having to go on his morning runs in his Invisibility Cloak, which left him completely drenched in sweat afterwards, and having to walk to and from Mrs Figg's in it as well; in other words, Harry was not to be seen outside of number four Privet Drive for the rest of the summer. He wondered if any of the neighbours had noticed that he'd seemingly dissappeared overnight.  
  
However, these changes didn't really bother Harry. They were for his own good after all. No, the most concerning thing he had found about the Death Eater's failed mission, besides the death of the Huxtables, was the fact that he had not known the identities of any of the Death Eaters. He had thought that he knew all of the Death Eaters, and that the most important and powerful ones had been captured at the Ministry in June, besides Bellatrix Lestragne; surely Voldemort would not entrust the capture of him to his less experienced, junior Death Eaters? Or had Voldemort been recruting?  
  
This was the thought that had been plaguing his mind constantly since the failed attack. His mind continued to replay what Remus had said to him earlier in the summer.  
  
It will be a while, however, before he is returned to his full health, but when he does, I believe that is when the real war will begin.  
You need to succeed in blocking Voldemort by the end of the summer at the latest, which we believe is when he will be restored to full health.  
  
Was Voldemort recruiting so he could prepare to begin the war at the end of the summer, as soon as he was restored to his full health? Or was he slowly building up power until he had enough to take over in one fell swoop? But then again, Harry thought, he still didn't even know if Voldemort was in fact recruiting.  
  
Of course he's recruting, a grim voice said in his head said suddenly, he can't start a war by himself.  
  
Harry opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, heaving a deep sigh as he did so. Today was July the 27th. In around a month the summer would end, and Voldemort would be back to full health. What would happen then? Harry wondered. What was going to start the war? Was Voldemort going to suddenly attack somewhere like Diagon Alley or the Ministry? Was he going to break Azkaban open, and release the prisoners into his service? Or would the war progress slowly, marked with sudden disappearances and killings, like what had happened in Voldemort's first rise to power?  
  
How was the war going to begin?  
  
CRACK!  
  
Harry jumped up off the sofa immediately, holding his wand in position and turning towards the direction of the noise, which had come from the window to his right. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that his teacher, Nate Gonzales, was in the exact same position.  
  
He relaxed when he saw a large owl fluttering around uncertainly outside, having evidently just crashed into the window at top speed. Harry ran quickly to the window and opened it. The owl swept in, dropped a letter at his feet and swooped straight back out, evidently trying to look dignified but failing dismally, as an owl does does not look dignified smashing headfirst into two lamposts and a tree as it flies away from you.  
  
Harry crouched down and picked up the letter. He recognized it immediately as a Hogwarts letter, but it was much thicker than his usual Hogwarts letters. He suddenly realized with a start that it was probaly his OWL results.  
  
Harry swallowed. He had completely forgotton about his OWLs. He had become so swept up with his training and worrying about Voldemort recovering strength and beginning the war that things such as exams had not even crossed his mind.  
  
"What is that, Harry?"  
  
Harry jumped, and turned around. Nate Gonazales was standing behind him, and had obviously been peering over Harry's shoulder to look at the letter he'd just recieved.  
  
"It's my OWL results."  
  
Nate's eyes lit up with curiousity, and he smiled. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" Harry grimaced.  
  
"Definitely a bad thing." Nate laughed, suprising Harry, as he rarely dropped his on-edge seriousness in lessons and let what Harry called the Real Nate through.  
  
"You probaly did better than what you think you did. I'll be in the kitchen. Call me when you're done." Nate then swept out of the room, seeming to sense Harry's need for privacy. Harry left the window and sat back down on the sofa, taking a deep breath as he held the envelope unsteadily in his hands. All his dreams of becoming an Auror rested on this envelope, he realized.  
  
Let's see what the damage is then he said grimly to himself, as he ripped open the envelope and pulled out the contents. There was at least ten sheets of parchment in the envelope. Harry quickly flicked through the first page, which was just the standard note telling him to please find enclosed his OWL results, as if he didn't already know that this was what the letter was about. He put that sheet to the side and, swallowing with difficulty, began to read the second sheet.  
  
Ordinary Wizarding Level (OWL) Results  
  
Name: Harry James Potter  
  
House: Gryffindor  
  
Subject: Theory: Practical: Overall OWL result:  
  
DADA: Outstanding Outstanding  
Outstanding (2 OWLs for  
  
exceptional work) Potions: Acceptable Exceeds expectations Exceeds expectations Charms: Acceptable Exceeds expectations Exceeds expectations Transfiguration: Exceeds expectations Exceeds expectations Exceeds expectations Herbology: Acceptable Acceptable  
Acceptable Astronomy: Acceptable Poor  
Acceptable History of Magic: Poor No practical exam Failed CMC: Exceeds expectations Outstanding  
Outstanding Divination: No theory exam Poor  
Failed  
  
Total number of OWLs recieved: 8  
  
Harry's face fell. He had only got eight OWLs, and had only achieved a grade of "Exceeds Expectations" in Potions; he was never going to be an Auror.  
  
Harry dropped the results sheet and held his head in his hands, heaving a defeated sigh. Being an Auror was the only thing he could ever see himself doing after Hogwarts (although he doubted he would ever make it that far), and now that possibility was gone. He supposed he could find another another job, at the Ministry or something, maybe there was another job that was similar to an Auror's job that he could do. . .  
  
Harry looked down at the floor, and noticed that on his results sheet, which was now on the floor, that there was more writing underneath his results. He picked up the sheet and started to read.  
  
Dear Mr Potter,  
Now that you have recieved and are informed of the results of your OWL examinations, a post-OWLs and pre-NEWTs meeting must be scheduled with your head of house, to reflect on your OWL performance and which NEWT classes you wish to take, which will be officially confirmed at this meeting. Please fill out the enclosed form and send it back by owl, specifying what date and time you are available for this meeting. Remember that it must be a date before the 7th of August. Please fill out the form as quickly as possible.  
Yours sincerly,  
Minerva McGonagall  
Deputy Headmistress  
  
Underneath this transcript, which was all written in the typical Hogwarts green ink, was a short note in plain black ink.  
  
Potter, ignore this, other arrangements will be made for you.  
  
Harry stacked all the parchment together (there were still a number of sheets of parchment he had not looked at yet) and stuffed it back into the ripped envelope roughly, and stuck it into the back pocket of his baggy jeans. He stood up and called Nate to tell him he was ready to carry on training, determined not to think about the fact that he would never be an Auror.  
  
Nate came in and opened his mouth, but took one look at Harry's face and shut it again; he seemed to get it that Harry didn't want to talk about his results. Instead he just drew his wand, walked to the other side of the living room, and turned to face Harry.  
  
"Ready Harry?" he questioned, rising his wand to chest level, his serious facade firmly back in place. Harry simply nodded and got into position, his wand, like Nate, held at chest height.  
  
"Remember Harry, focus fully on the curse I send at you. Block everything else out, no matter how fresh the memory is. At the moment, nothing matters more than this curse."  
  
Harry caught the hint about his disappointing OWL results and narrowed his eyes in concentration, preparing himself for Nate firing a curse at him, which he was without a doubt about to do.  
  
Harry was not disappointed. No more than a second later, Nate pointed his wand directly at Harry's heart and cried, "Dolens Pulsus!"  
  
Harry knew what to do. Concentrating on the purple light moving towards him, he quickly moved his wand up to his left temple and swung it diagnolly down across his chest to his right hip, in an imitation of a sword fighting move.  
  
The purple light stopped a few inches from Harry's chest, and stayed hovering in the air in front of him. Harry let out a cry of victory and let his wand arm relax, convinced that he had finally blocked a curse, and smiled, somewhat smugly. He wasn't expecting the curse to suddenly dart forwards and knock him backwards on to the floor, at the same time giving him the very unpleasant feeling of being punched hard in the stomach.  
  
Harry lay on the floor for a few minutes, struggling to regain his breath, and coughing loudly when he did manage it. He quickly got back up and back into position, his wand held at chest height, trying not to give in to the temptation to kick something very hard, to vent his frustration at failing once again to block a simple curse.  
  
Harry sighed. It was going to be a long day. . .  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
"Good evening, Potter."  
  
"Um, evening, Professor."  
  
"Sit down then, I haven't got all night."  
  
Harry sat down quickly at Mrs Figg's small kitchen table opposite Professor McGonagall, who was at Mrs Figg's for a post-OWL and pre-NEWT meeting with Harry.  
  
Harry, to be honest, was not exactly in the mood to talk about his OWL results, and what NEWT classes he planned to do. He had just finished a particularly gruelling Occlumency lesson with Snape, and was mentally exhausted, not to mention the fact that he was still reeling from the fact that he could never be an Auror; he didn't feel like being reminded of that fact right now.  
  
"So then Potter, pleased with your OWL results?" Harry gave her an incredulous look.  
  
"Pleased? Of course I'm not pleased! I didn't get an "Outstanding" in Potions, so I can't be an Auror now. So no, I'm not pleased with my OWL results." McGonagall's expression, to Harry's confusion, changed into a somewhat offended look.  
  
"Did I not promise you that I would train you to be an Auror, even if it was the last thing I ever did?" she said. Harry nodded slowly, but was still confused.  
  
"Well yeah, but what can you do about it? It's Snape's class."  
  
"For your information Potter, I can do a lot about it. I have convinced Professor Snape to accept you into his NEWT Potions class, under a few conditions. Firstly, you must undergo a three-week trial period when you begin the class in September, to prove that you are up to the task of coping with the demands of the work, and secondly, he wishes for you to take the Potions OWL again next January, in which you must achieve an "Outstanding" grade in order to continue the class. You're going to have to pull your socks up, Potter. I strongly advise that you begin revising for this as soon as possible. Remember; if you'd revised properly for your OWLs, you wouldn't be in this mess now."  
  
Harry nodded vigorously and promised that he would, too happy to argue that he had revised properly for his OWLs, it was just that other, more important things had got in the way too much of the time. But that didn't matter anymore; he was being allowed to take Potions at NEWT level.  
  
He was going to be an Auror!  
  
Harry suddenly laughed, loudly, and McGonagall raised her eyebrows.  
  
"Something funny, Potter?" she questioned. Harry shook his head quickly, realising that he had been laughing out loud.  
  
"Er, no, professor." McGonagall glared at him, and he relented. "Well, it's just that I never thought I'd be this happy after being told that I could take a lesson with Snape. I always thought I'd be more happy when I didn't have to have lessons with him anymore."  
  
McGonagall, to Harry's great suprise, seemed to be struggling not to smile after he said this. Just as her mouth turned upwards, she seemed to regain control of herself and her flicker of a smile was replaced by her usual pursed lips and stern, serious expression.  
  
"Now then Potter," she said briskly, "what other subjects are you interested in, other than those that are essential for being an Auror?" Harry shrugged his shoulders.  
  
"There aren't any really. I failed Divination and History of Magic, Herbology and Astronomy. . well, they're just boring, really, and Ancient Runes and Arithmacy I'd be too far behind in now. And I'm not taking Muggle Studies, I don't need that. So there isn't anything really, is there, I. . oh yeah!" Harry exclaimed suddenly, remembering something. "I can do Care of Magical Creatures! I got "Outstanding" on the OWLs in that, yeah, I'll do that as well. But there's nothing else."  
  
McGonagall gave Harry an exasperating look for a few seconds, and then spoke in a weary tone of voice.  
  
"Potter, did you read the letter that contained your OWL results all the way through?" she asked, in a way that suggested she already knew the answer. Harry thought for a moment, and then shook his head.  
  
"Er, no, all I looked at was the results, and the bit about this meeting," Harry said quietly, feeling like an idiot. "I haven't looked at it since then. Why, what did I miss?" McGonagall glared at him.  
  
"What you missed, Potter, was a guide to courses that are available to study at NEWT level without having done them before," said McGonagall. "There was a page of information for each one. And you didn't even glance at them?" she asked incredulously, clearly, in Harry's opinion, comparing him to some sort of stupid animal as she did so. Harry slowly shook his head, and McGonagall sighed deeply.  
  
"Honestly Potter, start using your head," she said scathingly, making Harry feel very small. "Do you at least have the letter with you? You were told to bring it."  
  
Harry nodded quickly, and said, "yeah I've got it, hang on." He stood up and extracted the letter from the back pocket of his jeans and handed the letter to McGonagall as he did so, who was looking at him in suprise, as if she hadn't expected him to have done something right. Harry fought down his anger and irritation and sat back down, his fists clenched.  
  
McGonagall pulled out the parchment in the envelope, quickly sorted through it, and handed Harry four sheets of parchment from it.  
  
"Here, look through these quickly, see if any of them interest you," she said briskly, as she began to inspect the sheet of parchment which Harry could see displayed his OWL results. He grimaced, and began to read the sheets McGonagall had given him. There were four subjects listed, with a fairly detailed outline of each one. Ten minutes later, he had finished. Only two of the four subjects had caught Harry's attention.  
  
"Um, Professor?" Harry ventured, and McGonagall looked up briefly from her inspection of Harry's OWL results and stared at him for a second, before fixing her eyes on the parchment again. Harry spoke anyway. "I've read these through, and only two interest me." McGonagall looked up and nodded at him.  
  
"Very well then, Potter," she said, giving him her full attention now, "which are the two that you are interested in?"  
  
"Spell Construction and Healing." McGonagall gave him an approving look.  
  
"Spell Construction and Healing?" she repeated. "Good choices, Potter. Healing is strongly recommended for students thinking of becoming Aurors, and I was going to reccomend you take it anyway, but I must confess that your interest in Spell Construction is suprising."  
  
She paused. "What specifically interests you about it?" Harry shrugged.  
  
"I just like the idea that you're creating something yourself, not copying anyone else. It's original. And, well, it might come in useful in the future." Their eyes met, and Harry knew that McGonagall had understood what he had meant. She nodded.  
  
"Very well then Potter. So, you are sure that these are the NEWTs you wish to take? I must warn you, seven NEWTs is not a light undertaking. You'll have to work extremely hard."  
  
Harry nodded. If he could cope with the training he had done this summer, he could certainly manage some exams. McGonagall made him sign some things that said that that was what he was studying, and then pulled out a file, the same file Harry remembered she had had in their careers meeting in Hogwarts last year.  
  
"Now, let's have a look at your OWL results. . ."  
  
The meeting finished twenty minutes later, and not a moment too soon in Harry's opinion, who was sick and tired of discussing what he had done wrong in the OWLs, and how he was not going to make the same mistake with the NEWTs. Harry slumped down in his chair, exhausted. At the end of the meeting, McGonagall had given him a ton of homework and background reading to do for her NEWT Transfiguration class, with the promise that he would be recieving similar amounts from his other teachers, in preparation for his other NEWT subjects (the fifth-years had not been given any summer homework at the end of the term like they usually did, because it was pointless to give them homework for subjects that they may not even be doing in three months time). McGonagall had not said who the teachers for his new subjects were, and Harry had forgotten to ask; he reckoned he'd just find out when the homework arrived, or in September.  
  
"Are you okay, Harry?"  
  
Harry quickly twisted round in his chair and saw Remus walking into the kitchen. Harry hesitated for a moment, and then slowly shook his head.  
  
"No, I'm not okay, I'm completely knackered, McGonagall's just given me a stupid amount of homework, I've got more coming by owl, and I've got to go do an hour and a half of weighlifting now," Harry moaned, looking to Remus, who was now laughing as he strode towards him.  
  
"No rest for the wicked, eh Harry?" he said lamely. "But you know, you don't have to go and do weightlifting now."  
  
"Yeah I do, it's part of my routine now, I'd feel weird if I didn't do it." Remus nodded.  
  
"Fair enough," he said, helping Harry to his feet. As he looked at Harry's face, his expression turned from playful back into his usual serious, thoughtful expression, and his eyes were filled with concern as he peered closely at Harry.  
  
"Are you sure that's all it is?" he asked cautiously, "you're just tired?" Harry nodded, confused; what could Remus see that was making him think that there was something wrong?  
  
"Really Remus," Harry assured him, "I'm fine. For once," he added quietly, and regretted it immediately. He hated showing his real emotions in front of other people, but it seemed so natural now to talk to Remus about how he was feeling. Harry didn't like it at all; in his opinion, his feelings were better off inside of him, where they couldn't upset people he cared about.  
  
Remus stared hard at him for a minute before seeming to accept that Harry indeed was fine for the minute, and that he was telling the truth. He then spoke again, in a quiet, hesitant voice, that was quite unlike his usual tone of voice.  
  
"You do know Harry, that you can talk to me about anything you want, right? I mean, I know I'm not the one you really want to talk to, but I am here if you need me." Harry nodded, thanking Remus for saying so, but then the full impact of what he had just said struck him.  
  
"You are who I want to talk to."  
  
Remus laughed slightly, and although he seemed to have tried to hide it, Harry thought he detected a great deal of bitterness in it. He looked Harry in the eye, a sober expression on his face.  
  
"I can never replace Sirus, no more than Sirius could ever replace James," he said, his voice hitching as he said it, "but I can still be there for you, if you let me, to help you and to guide you. I just wanted you to know it, that's all. I'm here if you need me," he finished, lowering his eyes to the table.  
  
Harry nodded, even though with his eyes lowered Remus couldn't see him doing so, and, without thinking about it, clapped his right hand down on Remus's shoulder, who looked up at him in suprise.  
  
"I know," Harry said simply, and withdrew his hand from Remus's shoulder. Remus smiled slightly.  
  
"We should get going," he said abruptly, standing up suddenly and turning away from Harry (Harry saw him raising his hand to his face as he did so). "It's past seven now," he stated.  
  
Harry stood up as well, and followed Remus into the front hall, where he quickly went about putting on his Invisibility Cloak. As he did so, he heard Remus mutter something.  
  
"So like James, yet so like Lily. They'd be so proud of him."  
  
Harry smiled and pulled open the door, the sun's setting rays covering him in red and yellow light as he walked out into the world, for the moment ready to face anything that it threw at him.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
The days and weeks began to blur into one continuous cycle of running, training and sleeping, and before Harry knew it it was the last day of summer, and he was walking along Wisteria Walk to Mrs Figg's for the last ever day of his training in the programme.  
  
Looking back on the summer, Harry reflected that it had not been a bad summer holiday; in fact, in Harry's opinion it was the best summer he had ever had. Granted, he had not gone to the Burrow or seen any of his friends like he usually did, but he did have regular, long and detailed letters from them, and he had formed close friendships with some of his teachers, Remus and Tonks in particular, so he had never been short of good companionship, and the immense workload of the programme (and later on his seemingly unlimited amount of homework) had frequently left Harry too exhausted to sink into depression and dwell on things such as Sirius's death and the prophecy, and for that he was immensely grateful; he dreaded to think what would have happened to him if he had been left alone all summer with only the Dursley's to keep him company. The anger release he got from Dudley's punchbag had helped matters a lot as well.  
  
Today, Harry was going to be tested on everything he had learned in the programme over the summer, and instead of making him extremely nervous, the prospect of the tests filled him with excitement. The training had made Harry much more confident in both himself and his abilities, and he didn't think that he'd have any problems with today. However, he was a bit worried about actually finding the things he needed for the tests in his mind, such as minor spells he had learned weeks ago that may have just faded into the back of his mind, and which he may struggle to remember. After all, he'd learned a lot over the summer.  
  
With Remus, learning Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts, he had learned more spells, curses, jinxes and hexes than he had in his five years at Hogwarts combined, and had mastered and perfected most of them. With Nate Gonzales, learning Duelling Techniques, he had learned everything he could ever wish to know about Wizard Duelling; about avoiding them, about how to get out of one quickly, and most importantly, how to win them. With Thomas Anderson, learning Physical Combat, he had learned a blend of Boxing, Kickboxing and Martial Arts, and had learnt how to adapt them into what Anderson called a "magical situation", for example how to physically disarm someone who was armed with a wand while you were wandless without getting cursed. Anderson had also tutored him on how to use Dudley's exercise machines, the weightlifting machines in particular, without injuring himself, and had arranged, with money from Harry's Gringott's account, for the same machines to be bought and fitted in Harry's dorm room at Hogwarts, so he would be able to carry on using them even after the summer had ended (only the non-electric ones; the electric ones would not work at Hogwarts).  
  
In Duelling, he had harnessed the spells and techniques he had learned with Remus, Anderson and Nate Gonzales by participating in real, no-holds barred Duels with Mad-Eye Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt, and Harry was proud to say that, in over five weeks of training, he had beaten Shacklebolt no less than three times. However, he had never beaten Moody, who was a much better Dueller than Harry would have ever anticipated.  
  
With Tonks, learning Concealment and Disguise, he had learnt how to almost completely avoid detection through different methods of concealment and disguise, from changing the colour of his hair (or even his skin) to casting a long-lasting, successful Disillusionment Charm on himself. She had made him memorise the ingredients of eleven different concealment potions and how to make them, and taught him many concealment and disguise spells, many of which were extremely difficult to maintain for a long period of time, but which he had mastered nonetheless.  
  
Tonks had also taught him how to use his very limited Metamorphmagi powers; with a strain, he could now grow his hair to his ankles in under three seconds, could also grow quickly his toe and fingernails, and could shave with it, which he had started to do a few weeks ago. It was a bit of a letdown to Harry how limited his Metamorphmagi powers were, but still, he reasoned, it was better than nothing. Overall, Harry could now, he felt, conceal and disguise himself very effectively indeed.  
  
However, there had been one problem which Harry had not been able to overcome in his training with Tonks; nothing could be done to conceal his scar. Despite her confidence at the beginning of the programme, even Tonks had accepted that nothing would ever work on it. They had tried everything; every single concealment potion and spell ever created, even magical make up, and still it had not changed one bit. The only thing that disguised it was if Harry took Polyjuice Potion, and assumed another's form. Despite this, Harry felt that he had achieved excellent results with Tonks, and that it would definitely help him in the future.  
  
However, the ability that Harry was most proud of perfecting was the one that he had doubted he could do the most; he had mastered Occlumency. He had not felt a thing out of his scar for over a week now, not even a twinge. Snape could no longer break into his mind with the Legilimens Spell or with mind driven Legilimency, and Harry could now sense whenever someone was attempting to use Legilimency on him. The mental training of being able to turn his emotions off had been another thing that had made it easier to cope with his grief over Sirius and his concerns about Voldemort, and had helped ensure that his emotions did not spiral out of control like they had used to. In fact, since he had mastered Occlumency, Harry had found that he was now in general a much calmer person than he had used to be, because he was constantly having to make his mind blank and push his emotions down in his lessons. Harry wondered if this could cause him any long-term problems; frequently pushing your emotions down could not be healthy, in his opinion.  
  
Harry had mastered Occlumency now to the point that he was doing it subconsciously, twenty four hours a day. Everytime he closed his eyes, instead of seeing a pure black screen like most people saw, he saw a bright white screen, which Snape had explained was what every accomplished Occlumens saw when they closed their eyes. It was something to do with the calmness of the mind, or something like that, Harry remembered Snape saying.  
  
The combination of Dudley's exercise machines and his morning runs had done wonders for Harry. No longer was he the short, scrawny thing he had been at the beginning of the summer; now he had a fairly muscled physique (although nothing near to what he wished he had) from the weightlifting, strong legs from his regular morning runs, and was no longer skinny due to the amount of food he had been eating all summer, to compensate for the energy he was losing through all the exercise. He had grown a few inches as well; he was never going to get to Ron's height, but he was as tall as Remus now, about 5ft 11, as opposed to his height of 5ft 8 at the beginning of the summer, and he was still getting used to it; it felt strange to be the same height as adults like Remus, who had always seemed so tall to him.  
  
On the whole, Harry was very pleased at the progress he had made over the summer and, if truth be told, completely amazed. When he had started the programme, he had sincerly doubted that he would be able to learn anything that his teachers had said he would be learning, but when it came to it, a lot of it had come easy to him. There were only a few things that had given him any real difficulties; with Remus, he had found some spells just too hard to learn, no matter how hard he tried; with Tonks, his stubborn scar had given him problems throughout, although Harry didn't think that that was his fault through lack of trying; and in Duelling with Shacklebolt and Moody, he was not pleased with his performance at all. He felt that he was not Duelling to his full potential, it always felt like there was something holding him back, but he couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was that was holding him back, which made it extremely frustrating. Shacklebolt had assured him that he was an amazing Dueller for his age, but still, Harry could feel that there was something holding him back.  
  
But overall, Harry figured that he'd be allright today, and as he turned a corner and entered Wisteria Walk, he began to feel the adrenaline pumping in his body in anticipation of the tests ahead. He took a deep breath to calm himself down, and heard Remus chuckle beside him. He turned to ask him what was so funny, but then stopped short. Since the Death Eater attack, they had refrained completely from speaking to eachother in the street; they may have been invisible, but the Death Eaters would still be able to hear them.  
  
Harry was broken out of his thoughts when he stumbled and tripped over something as he walked, falling flat on his face. Luckily, his Invisibility Cloak did not come off, and pulling his face up, he saw that it had been Mrs Figg's front porch steps that he had tripped over. He picked himself up quickly and scowled at Remus, who looked like he was exerting a superhuman effort to hold in his laughter. Harry ignored him and knocked on the front door, which opened by itself. He and Remus entered (Remus locking the numerous locks on the door behind him, laughing all the while) and took off their Invisibility Cloaks, and together they walked into the living room, Remus still chuckling slightly.  
  
All of Harry's teachers (from the programme) were there, along with Mrs Figg and Dumbledore. Tonks and Thomas Anderson were talking quietly on the other side of the living room, Mad-Eye Moody, Nate Gonzales and Kingsley Shacklebolt seemed to be immersed in an intense discussion at the small living room table, and Dumbledore and Mrs Figg were situated on the small sofa having a conversation about (Harry strained his ears to see if he was hearing right) curtains. Snape was standing by himself in the corner, glaring around at everyone. Dumbledore looked up from his conversation and spotted Harry and Remus in the doorway.  
  
"Ah, at last! Good morning Harry, good morning Remus!" Dumbledore said cheerfully, waving at the two of them. "Come in, come in!"  
  
After the polite greetings were all over and Harry's teachers (with the exception of Snape and Moody) had made him blush furiously by raving about his progress over the summer, Dumbledore turned to Harry with a slightly apologetic look on his face.  
  
"I hope you don't mind having an audience for these tests, Harry. Your teachers wish to see how you have adapted what you have learnt with them into other areas, and as for myself, I wish to see for myself how far you have come along. As for Arabella, well, it's her house," he said, as if this settled the matter.  
  
"I'm also here to see that you lot don't break anything!" Mrs Figg said from the sofa. Dumbledore turned to her and bowed.  
  
"I have already given you my word, Arabella." Mrs Figg looked doubtfully at him.  
  
"Hmmm. . ." she said, "just see that you don't."  
  
"I promise," Dumbledore said, turning back to Harry. So then, Harry, is a small audience satisfactory with you? I assure you, you will not even know we are here." Harry shrugged his shoulders.  
  
"Yeah sure, I don't care," Harry said casually, and in all truth he didn't care; he had done things harder than this in front of an audience (the first task of the Triwizard Tournament sprang to the front of his mind). Dumbledore nodded briskly.  
  
"Very well then. Tonks, will you please begin?"  
  
Tonks made him demonstrate, on himself, every concealment and disguise spell he had learnt, and recite the ingredients and theory of how to make the eleven different concealment potions she had made him memorise (Harry felt very satisfied with the ugly look that appeared on Snape's face as he did this). She also made him demonstrate his Metamorphmagus abilities, which drew a proud sniffle from her.  
  
Snape's tests, in Harry's opinion, could not even be counted as real tests; he attempted to break into Harry's mind with first the Legilimens spell and then mind driven Legilimency, both of which had no effect whatsoever. Then Dumbledore himself attempted to use Legilimency on him, and although Harry felt his defences weakening, he still managed to keep Dumbledore out of his mind, which seemed to make him very pleased. Snape left as soon as his tests were done, after a quick talk with Dumbledore. No- one missed him.  
  
Nate Gonzales's first test consisted of giving Harry various imaginary conflict situations and asking how he would deal with them, i.e would he negotiate, would he attack, would he run, etc. Thomas Anderson then asked him to name some of the kicks and punches he had learned with him, and to demonstrate them on a practice dummy conjured by Harry. Both Nate's and Anderson's second tests were in conjunction with Moody and Shacklebolt's tests, which consisted of a series of Duels, in which Harry would have to demonstrate what he had learned in Physical Combat, Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts, Duelling Techniques and Duelling. For the Duels, Dumbledore increased the size of the room and cast a protective shield around the walls and the area where he and the others were watching.  
  
His first Duel, with Anderson, he won after six minutes, by firing a disarming charm as he rolled out of the way of Anderson's Impediment curse. His second Duel, with Shacklebolt, he won through what Harry considered a complete fluke; Shacklebolt had conjured multiple images of himself around the room, and Harry had fired stunning spells wildly around, one of which happened to catch the real Kingsley Shacklebolt unaware. For his third Duel, he lost spectacuarly to Moody, when Moody caught him with a Dolens Curse and knocked him out of the living room and on to the kitchen table, an amazing feat considering that Dumbledore had expanded the room quite a bit for the Duels. However, Harry was fairly pleased with his performance this time round; he had Duelled with Moody for eleven minutes before being beaten.  
  
His last Duel was, suprisingly, with Dumbledore, who seemed to be under the impression that Harry would beat him easily. Harry knew that Dumbledore was just humouring him, and trying to give him some confidence; there was no way he would ever beat Dumbledore.  
  
Three minutes later he was proved right, after Dumbledore beat him easily. He did not seem pleased at all afterwards, even though he had won. But then again, this was all for Harry's sake; Dumbledore had probaly wanted Harry to beat him. Fat chance of that, Harry thought to himself.  
  
After the Duels, Remus made him demonstrate every single curse, spell, charm and jinx that he had learned with him, which Harry did fairly well on; there were a few spells that gave him trouble for a while (one he struggled with for twenty five minutes before he managed to do it successfully), and some he had totally forgot and needed his memory jogged, but he got them all down in the end. When Dumbledore had asked him at the end of the test how many spells he had failed to learn in the lessons, Harry was ashamed to admit that the answer was twenty two. Dumbledore had told him that it was nothing to be ashamed of, and that it was already incredible that he had managed to learn everything that he had over such a short space of time as the summer holidays, making Harry quite embrassed at recieving such high praise from Albus Dumbledore.  
  
It was three o'clock in the afternoon now, and Harry was sitting in one of Mrs Figg's armchairs, completely exhausted and struggling to keep his eyes open. His tests were over now, and Harry could not remember a time in his whole life that he had ever felt this completely exhausted. The tests had taken more out of him than he had ever thought they would; Harry knew that casting spells sapped your energy, and he reckoned he had cast over two hundred spells today, what with the Duels and with Tonks and Remus making him perform every spell he had ever learned with them. Anderson's Physical Combat test, coupled with the jumping, dodging, ducking and rolling he had done frequently throughout the Duels had sapped all of his physical energy as well, and he didn't think he'd now be able to get up even if he wanted to, which he most certainly did not want to do, because that would make him even more knackered.  
  
All he wanted to do was go to sleep and never wake up, because if he was asleep, he wouldn't be tired, and that was a good thing, because being tired wasn't very nice at all. . .  
  
He was in the kitchens at Hogwarts, and Dobby was shouting at him for trying to cook Winky in the oven. Harry protested, saying that she had smelt so much like Butterbeer he had thought she was a Butterbeer cake, whatever that was. . .Dobby pulled out a broom and tried to hit Harry round the head with it, but Harry jumped backwards to avoid the broom and fell over Snape, who was adding the finishing touches to Neville Longbottom's birthday cake. The cake fell on to the floor as Harry collided with Snape, and Snape began to cry. Harry started crying as well, and he and Snape hugged eachother as they cried. Poor Neville, Harry thought, his cake was ruined. . .  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Harry's eyes snapped open and he sat up quickly, looking around wildly, and in doing so, he headbutted the smiling Albus Dumbledore hard in the face.  
  
Dumbledore, who had been kneeling on the floor next to Harry's chair, toppled backwards onto the dusty floor of Mrs Figg's living room, his long purple robes flying up and covering his face as he fell. He lay there unmoving for a few seconds on his back, his face hidden by his robes, before extending his legs and picking himself up, and turrning smiling to Harry. He made no further action to suggest that he had just been headbutted hard in the face by one of his students; there was no mark on his face, he was smiling, and indeed, he looked like he was trying hard not to laugh.  
  
Harry, on the other hand, was hysterical. He had just headbutted his Headmaster in the face! It didn't seem to have done him any damage, Harry noted, as he looked at the smiling Dumbledore in front of him, but still. . .he had headbutted Albus Dumbledore in the face! He tried to apologise, but he couldn't get the words out, all he could manage was gibberish, and after a minute of struggling with this he just groaned and buried his head in his hands, trying to say sorry all the while, but failing miserably.  
  
"Harry?" Dumbledore's amused voice said from directly in front of him a minute later. Harry made no answer. "Harry, come out from there, you didn't hurt me." The voice paused, as if in thought.  
  
"I must have quite a strong head," it concluded eventually, "you pack quite a punch."  
  
Harry groaned and shook his head, feeling like a complete idiot as he attempted to apologise again, when suddenly a wrinkled hand took hold of his chin and pulled his face up with suprising strength. Dumbledore looked at him with twinkling blue eyes.  
  
"Calm down Harry, do not force me to use a Cheering Charm on you, it was just an accident," he said simply, "I suppose it was my own fault for waking you up so abruptly," he added thoughtfully. Harry frowned.  
  
"I wasn't asleep, I just had my eyes closed. I was relaxing." The twinkle in Dumbledore's blue eyes grew brighter.  
  
"Oh, really, Harry?" Dumbledore said, in the tone of someone who had got something wrong. "I seem to have falsely accused you, Harry. I apologise. Tell me, what is the time?" he asked suddenly, in a conversational voice.  
  
Harry looked at the clock on the wall and began to tell Dumbledore it was three o'clock, when he suddenly did a double take and opened his mouth in shock. Dumbledore smiled.  
  
"Seven o'clock?" Harry exclaimed, giving Dumbledore a puzzled look. "But, it was three o'clock a minute ago, that can't be the right time, I was only, it was just. . . who changed the clocks?" he demanded, looking round the room, which was when he realized at last that he and Dumbledore were the only two in the living room.  
  
Harry blinked. When he had last looked, the room had been full of his teachers, discussing his performance in the tests while he rested in the armchair, but now it was empty but for him and Dumbledore, and the house was quiet; he and Dumbledore seemed to be the only ones in the whole house. Looking out the window, Harry saw that the sun was starting to set; the last time he had looked, in what felt to him like five minutes ago, it had been high in the sky. That must mean it actually is seven o'clock, Harry concluded. He couldn't believe it. He thought he had only had his eyes closed for a minute, but he had actually slept for. . .  
  
"Four hours?" Harry exclaimed, again. "I've been asleep for four hours? Why didn't no-one wake me up?" he asked Dumbledore, who sighed wearily.  
  
"Harry, you were mentally, magically and physically exhausted, you needed the sleep," he said realistically, "do you not feel well rested now?"  
  
Harry shook his shoulders and frowned. "Well, yeah, but I, you know, wanted to say goodbye to some of my teachers before they left, it'll probaly be a while before I see some of them again," he said quietly, not liking to admit this kind of thing out loud. Dumbledore smiled, and looked at Harry fondly.  
  
"Ah, that is where you are wrong, Harry. Mr Gonzales and Tonks you will at least see tomorrow; they are part of your guard to get you safely onboard the Hogwarts Express." Harry brightened considerably at this news, glad that he would be able to properly thank them tomorrow for everything they had taught him, but then frowned suddenly.  
  
"Professor, where's Remus? He was supposed to take me home at six."  
  
"Remus will be here in an hour to take you home. First, there are a few things that you and I must discuss. Shall we move to the kitchen?" Dumbledore suggested, "it's getting quite uncomfortable done here on the floor."  
  
Harry agreed and followed Dumbledore into the kitchen, knowing from experience that this was not going to be good. This feeling intensified when Dumbledore placed Silencing Charms around the kitchen twice and sat down at the small kitchen table, the twinkle leaving his eyes as his face became grim and serious. Harry sat down opposite him, and Dumbledore began to speak in a quiet voice.  
  
"Harry, we need to talk about the prophecy." Harry swallowed, with an effort, and nodded.  
  
"What about it?"  
  
"We must discuss if you have, or plan to in the future, reveal the contents of it to anyone." Harry gave Dumbledore an incredulous look. He started to speak, to defend himself, but then thought of something better to say.  
  
"What do you think, Professor? Do you think I have told anyone yet, or if I plan to in the future?" Dumbledore looked shrewdly at Harry before answering.  
  
"I believe that you want to tell someone, yet you are worried about the consequences of what will happen if you do. I believe that you do not wish to keep this information to yourself, but at the same time do not wish to burden anyone else with it. I believe that your mind is divided on the issue. In short, I think you are confused. I wish to help you." Harry shook his head.  
  
"You don't wish to help me, you just want to make sure that I won't tell anyone about the prophecy," he said resentfully, ignoring Dumbledore's hurt look. He then spoke up, and replied to Dumbledore in a clear voice.  
  
"Professor, if you had come to me at the beginning of the summer and said this, you would have got how I was feeling, my emotional state, bang on. However, it's changed now. My mind is set now," he finished. Dumbledore looked hard at him.  
  
"And in which direction has your mind set to?" he asked. Harry took a deep breath, and when he replied it was in a clear, firm voice, quite unlike his usual tone.  
  
"I will not tell anyone about the prophecy. By telling someone, I could make them as much of a target for Voldemort as I am myself, and I would not wish that upon anybody. As you said, it is also true that I do not wish to burden anyone else with the knowledge of the prophecy, which would tear them apart, or at least it would tear apart the people I would ever consider telling. Given that I recognize these consequences of telling anyone about the prophecy, it must be easy now to see that I do not want to tell anyone about it. The way I see it, the cons of telling someone outweigh the pros by a mile. To tell someone would be selfish; I would be attempting to lighten my burden by handing some of the weight of it to others. That is not the kind of person I am. I am not confused at all on this matter. This is my burden. My mind is set. I will not tell anyone about the prophecy."  
  
Dumbledore looked at Harry in wonder, and did not speak for the next five minutes. Instead, he took off his half-moon glasses and buried his face in his hands, and when he emerged, Harry could see that without a doubt he had been crying. When he finally spoke, his voice was filled with respect.  
  
"You move me, Harry. I have never heard you speak like this before." He gave Harry a long, hard, searching look, and at length he spoke again.  
  
"You have grown, Harry. You are not the same person you were at the beginning of the summer. You are becoming a man, I see. And a strong man as well; it is beyond my comprehension how you can accept this knowledge so easily, and disregard completely the idea of confiding in someone." Harry shook his head.  
  
"Did I say that I have accepted this knowledge? You think that I have just accepted the knowledge that I must either kill or be killed? No Professor, I haven't. It eats at me everyday. Some days I just can't get it out of my head. But disregarding completely the idea of confiding in someone? That is true. But it is not an issue of simply disregarding it; I don't have a choice. It is my destiny to fulfil the prophecy, or die trying, and I am not going to put someone else's life in danger just so I can feel a bit better about it. There is no choice in this." Dumbledore inclined his head slightly.  
  
"Indeed if this is how you feel Harry, then it is true that you do not have a choice, and nothing I say will change that. But remember Harry, that you do not carry this burden alone. I too know the contents of the prophecy, and I understand the reponsibility which is laid on your shoulders." Harry gave a short, bitter laugh.  
  
"How can you possibly understand this, it's not exactly a. . ." Harry trailed off, looking closely at Dumbledore, who was looking very peculiar. His blue eyes were vacant, and he looked like he was in another world.  
  
"Professor?" Harry said anxiously.  
  
Dumbledore stirred, and looked up at Harry with a strange look on his face, and a powerful emotion in his eyes that Harry could not interpret. He glanced around the kitchen and added another layer of Silencing Charms to the room. Harry frowned; what was going on? He wondered.  
  
"Harry, what I am about to tell you is a secret that you must keep to yourself forever, save one person. You must guard this information with as much vigilance as you guard the words of the prophecy. However, I do not wish to add to your burdens without your permission first, so I am giving you a choice; do you wish to hear this or not? I must tell you, however, that even if you do not wish to be told this secret today, you will have to be told it one day. Do you wish for me to tell you?"  
  
Harry hesitated. Did he really want more important information that he had to keep a secret? Of course he didn't, he told himself firmly, and prepared to tell Dumbledore so as well, but then stopped. If Dumbledore cared as much for him as he said he did, and yet he was still going to tell him something that he knew would add to Harry's burden, it must be something that it was important to hear. But he didn't want to know, he told himself. He turned to Dumbledore.  
  
"What do you advise, Professor?" Dumbledore looked suprised that Harry had asked his advice, but nevertheless he answered him.  
  
"I believe that you need to know this information, Harry. Not for the world, not for anyone else, but for yourself, and for your own well-being."  
  
Typical cryptic Dumbledore answer Harry thought dryly, but nevertheless he took Dumbledore's advice, and took a deep breath.  
  
"Tell me then."  
  
"Are you sure, Harry?"  
  
"Yes I'm sure, just tell me."  
  
"Very well." Dumbledore laid his hands out on the table in front of him, and began to speak.  
  
"As you are undoubtedly already aware from your studies in Defence Against the Dark Arts and History of Magic, it is the traditional rule that at least two powerful Dark Lords rise every century. This, unfortunately, has been the way for over a thousand years, even before Hogwarts was created by the four founders." Dumbledore paused, muttered something under his breath for a minute, took a deep breath, and continued. "Every time a seemingly invincible Dark Lord rises, a prophecy is made concerning him or her, which foretells their potential downfall at the hands of one person. In short, every prophecy states, in different wording, that only one person has the power to defeat that Dark Lord, and if they fail to do so, there is no hope of ever defeating that Dark Lord. This has been the rule for as long as Dark Lords have arisen, and only once has the prophecy fallen in the Dark Lord's favour."  
  
"What happened then?" asked Harry, "when was it? You said that if the one with the power to defeat the Dark Lord failed, then there would be no hope of ever defeating that Dark Lord." Dumbledore sighed.  
  
"And I spoke truly, Harry. However, I believe that that is a tale for another day. The point is, Harry, you are not alone as you think you are. You belong to the Line of the Protectors, the title given to the ones who are chosen by the prophecies. You must remember Harry, that people before you have gone through what you are now going through, and understand what you are going through." Harry gave another short, bitter laugh.  
  
"What good is that to me, Professor? It dosen't make me feel less alone at all. Maybe if I could actually meet and talk to one of the witches or wizards who had gone through this I'd feel a bit better, but I doubt that's going to happen anytime soon, is it?" he laughed again.  
  
"It may happen sooner than you think, Harry. Indeed, a man who has gone through this is sitting across the table from you at this very moment."  
  
Harry's mouth dropped open in shock. "You?" he said quietly, not fully comprehending what Dumbledore had just said, before the memory of a Chocolate Frog trading card suddenly came clearly into the front of his mind.  
  
Professor Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945.  
  
"Grindelwald, 1945," he said slowly, understanding now. Dumbledore nodded grimly.  
  
"Correct, Harry. Hadzler Grindelwald, the first Dark Lord of the twentieth century. At the time of his uprising, I was a humble Transfiguration teacher at Hogwarts. I had no inclination to be involved in the fight against him. He had not yet affected wizarding Britain in any serious way, being based and fighting the majority of his battles overseas in the mainland of Europe, otherwise perhaps I may have felt an inclination to join the fight before the prophecy was made." Dumbledore sighed, and his face took on the vacant expression Harry had seen earlier. Now he knew that it meant he was reliving old memories. At length he shook himself, and carried on with his story.  
  
"The prophecy was made by a self-imposed exile of the wizarding world, an english woman named Annette Vatescue. Being a natural seer from birth, but not willing to face the dangers of being a well-known seer in the wizarding world, she decided to erase herself from the magical community, by leaving her friends and family suddenly one night and, in effect, vanishing without a trace from the wizarding world. With her seeing powers, she saw a guarnteed way to make a living in the Muggle world, by becoming a Muggle fortune teller, and she worked this way in exile from the wizarding world for many years.  
  
"In 1941, Annette was working on a large, travelling carnival organisation, which was constantly moving around Britain, attempting to cheer up the Muggle's who were downhearted by the Muggle second world war. On the night of the 21st of June, 1941, a wizarding family, the Chilcott's, had decided to visit this carnival, which at the time was situated in Kent, to see what the Muggles did for entertainment. They came across a fortune- teller there, under the lame title of "Annette the all-seeing", and decided to see if she at least put on a good show.  
  
"It was while the Chilcott's were with her that the prophecy was given. Luckily, Sigmund and Grace Chilcott were good friends of mine and, seeing me as the best person to come to with such a peculiar situation, they informed me the next day of what had happened, and the contents of the prophecy. I tracked Annette down of course, to ensure that I had the words of the prophecy correct, and erased her memory of anything out of the ordinary happening. She may not have remembered actually giving the prophecy, but she most certainly would have remembered the Chilcott's reactions to it. Strange, is it not, how these things happen, how a wizarding family just happened to be there when the prophecy was given, how they just happened to be good friends of mine. . .almost like fate that I found out really," Dumbledore said dryly, making Harry smile grimly and nod.  
  
"But wouldn't the family have come to see you anyway, if the prophecy was about you?" he asked. Dumbledore frowned.  
  
"Does the prophecy concerning you actually contain your name, Harry? No, it does not. Another rule for these prophecies is that the name of the person with the power is never actually named in the prophecy. However, there is always enough information in each of them to discern who the prophecy is referring to."  
  
Harry swallowed. "And how did you defeat Grindelwald, Sir?" Harry asked. Dumbledore did not look suprised at the question.  
  
"When the prophecy was made, in 1941, I immediately contacted the leader of the resistance against Grindelwald in Germany, and told him I wished to join the fight. Because of my already considerable experience, I quickly became one of the leaders of the resistance, in under a year in fact. It was there that I met, in 1942, Lucida Janus, the woman the prophecy had chosen to defeat the last Dark Lord of the nineteenth century, Lucifer Marvolo. Yes Harry, the same family," Dumbledore said, nodding grimly, "alas that he had secretly fathered children before Lucida defeated him. For four years, Lucida trained me for my task, of defeating Grindelwald, and in 1945 my chance came, at last.  
  
"Grindelwald was laying siege to the borders of the Netherlands when I faced him. He did not take me seriously, being so convinced that he was completely and utterly invincible, and that no-one whatsoever could ever defeat him, even harm him in any way. Perhaps that is what lost him the battle." Dumbledore paused, running his fingers over his forehead and muttering under his breath in some strange language Harry did not understand before continuing.  
  
"We Duelled for over an hour, neither of us getting a clean hit on the other the whole time, before my chance came. We had been Duelling on a high wall, the wall of the borders, the Netherlands on one side and Germany on the other, when somebody fired a very strong Reducto Curse against the wall. I was quicker than Grindelwald. As the wall collapsed, I cast a levitation charm on myself and floated myself down lightly to the ground. Grindelwald, however, was not so quick-thinking. He went down with the wall, and when he emerged from the ruins, looking only slightly worse for wear, I conjured a thick iron net and wrapped him in it before he could retaliate. That is when I used it."  
  
"Used what?" Harry asked breathlessly, lost in the story, forgetting temporarily that it had actually happened. Dumbledore sighed.  
  
"The spell that Lucida had taught me to defeat Grindelwald. The Eternal Spell of the Underworld. I cast the spell on Grindelwald, and sent him to hell for eternity."  
  
Harry felt his throat close up suddenly, and a feeling that he associated with Phoenix song rose in his chest; hope. This could be it, he realized, not daring to believe it.  
  
"You killed Grindelwald with this spell?" he asked Dumbledore, quickly and breathlessly, "you sent him to hell forever? Even though he was thought to be immortal? Can I. . can I. .can I use this spell on Voldemort? Can I defeat Voldemort with this spell? Can I kill him with it?"  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "I am afraid Harry, that no, you cannot. It will not work. Voldemort is the most powerful Dark Lord ever, Harry. He is too powerful to simply banish to the underworld forever. Eventually, he would escape, yes Harry, if he set his will to it, he could even escape from hell."  
  
"Then what else is there?" Harry said, letting the hope in his chest die. "What other spell is there?" he asked despairingly.  
  
"There isn't one."  
  
"THEN HOW THE HELL AM I EVER GOING TO DEFEAT HIM THEN?" Harry screamed, not really knowing actually why he was screaming. "HOW CAN I DEFEAT HIM WITHOUT KNOWING HOW TO?"  
  
"When the time comes Harry, you will know what to do." Harry gave a frustrated growl.  
  
"How do you know that, Professor? You were taught the spell needed to defeat Grindelwald. How do you expect me to just know how to defeat Voldemort, 'when the time comes', as you say? You knew what you were doing when you went to kill Grindelwald, I haven't got a clue. Is that your big plan; for me to walk into a Duel with him relying on just suddenly knowing how to kill him?"  
  
"Harry, you misunderstand me. When I said 'when the time comes', I did not mean you would suddenly know how to defeat him when you walk into battle against him, far from the contrary in fact. What I meant, Harry, is that you will know what to do because I will tutor you in what to do." Harry gave Dumbledore a puzzled look.  
  
"You're going to tutor me in what to do?" Harry repeated, confused. "But how? You said there is no spell to defeat him."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Correct Harry. There is no spell to defeat him. Not yet, at any rate." He frowned, and began to stroke his chin (or at least Harry thought it was his chin; he couldn't be sure under that beard) thoughtfully.  
  
"Perhaps I should have made myself clearer earlier. When I said that Lucida taught me The Eternal Spell of the Underworld to defeat Grindelwald, I did not in any way mean that it was a spell that she already knew, and simply tutored me on how to use; it was a spell that the two of us invented. It was Lucida who came up with the idea of how to actually use the spell, which is why I said she taught me the spell. Myself and Lucida created the spell together, just like you and I must do."  
  
Harry opened his mouth in shock. "We have to invent a spell to defeat Voldemort?" he said quietly. Dumbledore nodded. "But, I don't know how to create spells, I've never created one in my life, I. . how the hell am I going to create one powerful enough to kill Voldemort?"  
  
"Harry, I do not expect you to suddenly be able to create a spell like this. Remember, it took me and Lucida four years to invent our one. However, I have confidence that we will take nowhere near that long for ours. I have been informed that you have taken up the subject of Spell Construction for one of your NEWT classes, and it must be clear now that that was a good choice. You will gain experience from that in creating spells, and by the time we begin to create our spell, you will have at least a year's worth of Spell Construction studies behind you. Furthermore, when we. . ."  
  
"At least a year's worth?" Harry interrupted, "what do you mean? Do you not want me to start this until seventh year?"  
  
"Preferably, yes, that is my plan."  
  
"No."  
  
"I beg your pardon, Harry?"  
  
"We start this as soon as possible."  
  
"Harry, you must understand. . ."  
  
"All I need to understand is that the longer this spell takes to create, the more people who will die. That's all I need to know." Dumbledore sighed.  
  
"Very well, Harry, I will give some thought to this. I am not promising anything though. Please come to my office after the Welcoming Feast tommorow. The password is 'Pumpkin Juice'."  
  
"Pumpkin Juice?" repeated Harry, "you usually use sweets."  
  
Dumbledore shrugged. "I felt like a change was in order." He began to rummage in his purple robes, evidently looking for something. After a few minutes, he pulled out a golden watch, that looked very expensive. Harry saw that instead of numbers, it had planets moving around the edge. Dumbledore turned back to Harry.  
  
"I apologise Harry, but I must be on my way. Remus should be here in a few minutes. However, I must speak with you on more matter before I go.  
  
"The Line of the Protectors is not a laughing matter, Harry. Someday, it will be your responsibility to help and guide the next of the line in defeating the next Dark Lord, and help to create the spell needed for the task, and you must be ready for the task. You must be both pupil and teacher in your lifetime, Harry. I. . .what is it, Harry?" Dumbledore had noticed Harry looking down, a dark look in his eyes.  
  
"Then my life is laid out for me even after I, sorry, I mean if, I defeat Voldemort, then," he said softly. "Since I was eleven, I've always held on to the hope that when Voldemort was gone, I'd be free. Looks like I was wrong," he finished bitterly. Dumbledore sighed.  
  
"Harry, you have no choice but to accept this. I know it is hard, and believe me, I do know. But you must remember Harry, this is what you were chosen for. Please remember that you were chosen because of who you are, of what you would grow up to be. You have the power of the Line of the Protectors in you, Harry. You are not alone in this fight. And for what it's worth, you have me. I will always help you Harry, not simply because it is my fate to, but because I love you. You are like a son to me."  
  
Harry looked up at Dumbledore, amazed, confused, angry, grateful and embarassed at his words, an emotion he could not describe filling his chest. He could not find words to express what Dumbledore's comment meant to him, so he just said what he felt was a safe thing to say, mumbling, "thank you," to the table, and looking up.  
  
Dumbledore looked like he understood anyway however, and smiled at Harry. Abruptly, he stood up, pocketing again his expensive-looking golden watch.  
  
"Remember that we have a meeting scheduled tommorow after the Welcoming Feast, Harry. I will give you your answer regarding the spell then. Have a good trip to Hogwarts. Oh, and Harry? Congratulations again on your progress over this summer," he added, and Disapparated away without a sound.  
  
Harry leaned back in his chair, feeling overwhelmed with information, but also strangely lighter-hearted than usual. He allowed himself a small smile.  
  
Maybe he wasn't so alone after all.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
"The 10:38 to Peterborough, calling at Potters Bar, Hatfield, Stevenage and Letchworth will be delayed by nine minutes, due to. . ."  
  
"Train approaching on platform four, please keep behind the yellow line. . ."  
  
"Big Issue! Big Issue! Big Issue!"  
  
Harry pushed his luggage trolley through the busy King's Cross Station, feeling like he was coming home. Well, he was, he reasoned; he was going back to Hogwarts. He was going to see Ron and Hermione again! He thought excitedly, and began to walk faster, Hedwig's cage wobbling dangerously on top of his trunk. He heard people laugh behind him.  
  
"Whoa, slow down Harry, you'll end up walking off the end of the platform," he heard Tonks say from behind him, getting appreciative chuckles from the others accompanying Harry to the station, the others being Nate Gonzales, Remus Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt (who was disguised as a jamacian tourist, with rainbow-patterned clothes and dreadlocks to match).  
  
Harry slowed down, turning around to stick out his tongue at Tonks, who blew a raspberry at him. He had formed a close friendship with Tonks over the summer, and saw her as a sort of sister he had never had. Kind of like the way I see Hermione, he realized. Today, Tonks was disguised as a tall, middle-aged blond haired woman, with, in Harry's opinion, an eery resemblance to his Aunt Petunia.  
  
"You'll see them soon, Harry." Harry turned to his side, to see Remus walking alongside him, smiling at him. He smiled back.  
  
"You always know what I'm thinking, don't you?" Harry said. Remus chuckled.  
  
"Well, I have spent enough time with you this summer, I should be able to read your mind by now," he said, nudging Harry with his elbow. Harry rolled his eyes; Remus really needed to work on what he thought was funny.  
  
"Harry! Professor Lupin!" Harry turned to his right, but before he could respond to anything, a very bushy haired girl had thrown herself at him, knocking him back a step.  
  
Only up to my chest this time Harry thought as Hermione Granger hugged him, remembering last summer when Hermione had hugged him in Grimmauld Place and he had not been able to see anything, because of her bushy hair being in his eyes. He fought his first instinct, to defend himself from the person who had just crashed into him, and hesitantly hugged her back (he had never exactly been comfortable hugging people). Hermione pulled away from him and looked at him with immediate concern in her eyes.  
  
"How are you, Harry? Oh, I haven't seen you for so long! You look so different! I've been worrying about you all the time, are you okay?" she said breathlessly. Harry smiled at her.  
  
"Calm down Hermione, I'm fine. Why are you here by yourself?" he asked, slightly worried.  
  
"My parents just left, only about a minute ago, they've got a meeting at 11:15, they had to go. My trunks already on the train. But don't change the subject. How are you?" Harry laughed.  
  
"Really, Hermione, I'm fine. I had a good summer for once." She frowned at him for a second, looking disbelieving, but then smiled at him again, and turned to his side to speak to Remus.  
  
"Hi, Professor! How are you?" she asked politely, a strangely suprised look on her face as she looked at him. Remus smiled at her.  
  
"I'm fine, Hermione," he answered, shaking her hand, "did you have a good summer?" To Harry's suprise, Hermione frowned, and then waved her hand dismissively.  
  
"Oh, it was alright, we didn't go on holiday anywhere like we usually do, and I didn't get to see Harry or Ron like I usually do, but other than that it was okay. Tonks!" she exclaimed suddenly, smiling at the young Auror, who had just caught up with Harry and Remus.  
  
"Wotcher Hermione!" Tonks replied, hugging her. Hermione broke away from her, and then looked at confusion at Kingsley and Nate Gonzales. Tonks laughed.  
  
"Oh yeah, forgot about that. Hermione, that's Shacky," Tonks said, nodding at Kingsley, dressed in his rainbow patterned Rastafarian clothes and frowning at Tonks, "and that's Nate Gonzales, one of Harry's teachers from the summer. Nate, this is Hermione Granger, that smart friend of Harry's that everyone's always going on about." Hermione smiled at Nate.  
  
"Pleased to meet you," she said politely. Nate smiled at her, and shook her hand.  
  
"The pleasure is all mine. From what I've been told, you're one of the smartest witches I've ever met." Hermione blushed, and turned to shake Kingsley's hand.  
  
"Shall we get on to the platform, then?" Remus said, once Hermione and Kingsley were done shaking hands. "Ron's probably already there," he added, seeing that Harry was just about to ask a question. Harry smiled, and nodded.  
  
They went through the process of hanging around the barrier casually, and slowly leaning against it and falling through it and on to platform nine and three-quarters. Harry went through first, looking in joy when he got to the other side at the familiar scene of platform nine and three- quarters, of tearful parents saying goodbye to their embarassed children, the Hogwarts Express standing tall to the left of the platform, billowing smoke, ready to take the students back to Hogwarts, back home. . .Harry grinned widely.  
  
A few minutes later, Harry, his guard, and Hermione were all on the platform, looking for the Weasleys but not seeing them anywhere. Harry was beginning to get worried, and from her expression Hermione was as well, when. . .  
  
"Oi, Harry!"  
  
Harry turned around quickly to see Ron Weasley walking quickly towards him from the entrance to platform nine and three-quarters, ahead of his parents, his twin brothers Fred and George, and his sister Ginny.  
  
"Ron!" Harry exclaimed, shaking Ron's hand when he had reached him. Ron looked at him in amazement.  
  
"Blimey, look at you! You've grown! About time, I reckon, you've been a midget for ages."  
  
"Ron!" said Mrs Weasley sharply, making Ron shrug his shoulders and mumble something under his breath. He spoke to Harry for a few more minutes, and then went to say hi to Hermione. Mrs Weasley turned to Harry and beamed at him, saying, "Harry dear, it's lovely to see you!" she gave him a tight hug and pulled back, still smiling at him. Over her shoulder, Harry saw Hermione hugging Ron tightly, a smile on her face as she did so. Ron looked slightly scared. Mrs Weasley continued to beam at him.  
  
"Well, even if Ron was a bit crude about it, he's right. you're looking much healthier," she said, giving him another hug before going to talk to Remus, who was now introducing Ron to Nate Gonzales.  
  
"Yeah, Harry, you're looking great," said Fred, as he and his twin brother George came up to him and each shook his hand. "Bit out of season though."  
  
"What?" said Harry, confused.  
  
"The look," said George, continuing Fred's sentence, "more of a winter look, that."  
  
"What are you two talking about?" asked Harry, thoroughly bewildered. Fred and George rolled their eyes.  
  
"I don't think he's looked in the mirror all summer, George."  
  
"Can't blame him, really, I mean, would you look in the mirror if you looked like that?"  
  
"Suppose not. Don't think he's been outside all summer as well."  
  
"I'll say. Have those Muggles locked you up all summer Harry?" asked Fred, his expression turning slightly more serious. Harry, however, was still confused.  
  
"Have they been locking me up? What? Just tell me what you're on about, will you?"  
  
"Your complexion, Harry. You're completely pale. You look like you haven't been outside all summer. So, did the Muggles lock you up, or did you just decide to use Snape as your new role model? I mean, you look like him now." Harry frowned. He'd forgotten that he had been inside all summer, training in Mrs Figg's dark, murky house, so that an absense of a tan would be even more noticeable around everyone else, who all looked very well tanned, Harry noted. He glared slightly at George.  
  
"I look like Snape? Cheers, George. And no, the Dursley's didn't lock me up, I've been inside, doing, well, I've been doing. . .hang on, didn't no- one tell you what I was doing?" Harry asked. Fred and George looked at eachother for a minute, looking confused, before realization dawned on their faces, at exactly the same time, Harry noted. They turned back to Harry.  
  
"Well, yeah," said Fred, "but still, you can't have been doing that every day, could you? What were you doing the rest of the time?" Harry shrugged his shoulders.  
  
"There wasn't any other time. It was every day, I didn't have any days off, and by the time I finished every day the sun was already going down." The twins goggled at him.  
  
"Every day?" they exclaimed loudly at the same time, making a timid- looking girl passing by shriek loudly. "They had you training every day? How long for?"  
  
"Ten hours a day." George whistled loudly.  
  
"Blimey, Harry, hard work. Bet you wish you had been locked up by the Muggles, don't you?" Harry laughed.  
  
"Nah, it was fun. Hard work, but it was fun. And I learned loads. Loads of spells, not book stuff," he added. Fred and George nodded, the disgusted looks that had appeared on their faces instantly vanishing.  
  
"Ah, the good kind of learning," said Fred.  
  
"Got anything decent you could teach us, Harry?" said George. Harry grinned.  
  
"Tons. But not right now. Maybe at christmas or something."  
  
"Well obviously, Snape."  
  
"Shut up," said Harry, making a mental note to look at his reflection the first chance he got, to see if he actually did look like Snape.  
  
"Harry, you better get on the train, it's leaving soon."  
  
Harry turned, and saw Remus behind him. The twins said hello to him quickly, and then went off to help Ginny with her trunk.  
  
Remus held out his hand to Harry, and Harry shook it immediately, suddenly realizing that he wasn't going to see Remus for a long time. He was going to miss him, he wasn't ashamed to admit. Remus smiled at him.  
  
"Take care of yourself, Harry." Harry smiled weakly.  
  
"And you. And. . .thanks for everything." Remus nodded.  
  
"And thank you for everything." Harry gave him a puzzled look.  
  
"Thank me?" he said, confused. "What for?"  
  
Remus smiled sadly. "Grief is a complicated thing, Harry. You and I both needed someone. Thank you for the support you gave me."  
  
Harry didn't understand how Remus reckoned he'd given him support, so he just nodded, pretending to understand. Remus seemed to believe him, as he nodded as well.  
  
"Oi, Harry! Get on the bloody train!" came Ron Weasley's cry from a open window of the Hogwarts Express.  
  
"Ronald Weasley, watch your language!" came Mrs Weasley's shrill reply to Ron's shout. Ron slammed the window, looking, to Harry, very embarassed. Harry turned to Remus in panic.  
  
"I haven't said goodbye to the others yet!" he said, looking around frantically. Remus pushed Harry towards the train.  
  
"There isn't time now, I'll tell them you said goodbye. Yes, and I'll tell them you said thank you as well."  
  
Harry smiled at Remus, and jumped on to the train. "I'll see you when I see you then," he said out of the window. Remus just nodded.  
  
Harry was just about to shut the train door and look for the compartment Ron and Hermione were in when several things happened.  
  
Harry saw Remus twist his head round sharply, down the platform. His eyes suddenly widened. Harry heard people screaming, and then a deep voice cried, "Reducto!"  
  
A loud crash was heard, as if something very heavy had just fallen to the ground, and the train trembled and shook under the shockwaves of it. Harry lost his balance and toppled over. He looked at Remus, who was frantically looking from Harry and down to the platform and back. He shouted over the loud crashes that were still being sounded, "stay there, Harry!" and he went to close the train door, a few inches in front of Harry's face. But Harry had by now figured out was going on.  
  
Death Eaters had attacked platform nine and three-quarters.  
  
With speed Remus had not anticipated, he pulled himself to his feet, pushed open the train door that Remus had already half-shut, and jumped back onto the platform, looking down where Remus had been looking.  
  
There were at least ten Death Eaters there, at the far end of the platform, their wands out and ready to attack, all standing in one horizontal line, taking up the whole width of the platform. They had destroyed the entrance to platform nine and three-quarters, the wrought- iron archway lying in a mangled heap on the floor, but were now making no further action. They just stood there in their line, as if waiting for something.  
  
And then Harry heard it.  
  
The same sound that he had heard in his nightmares more times than he could count.  
  
High-pitched, evil laughter.  
  
Harry swallowed. The Death Eaters moved to the side, half of them moving to the left, the other half moving to the right, to let a tall, black robed man through, who had presumably been standing behind them. Harry swallowed again, and withdrew his wand.  
  
Lord Voldemort was here.  
  
And he looked more powerful than ever.  
  
The second war had begun. 


	6. Chapter six: So it begins

Harry Potter and the path of war  
  
Chapter six: So it begins  
  
Harry kept his eyes fixed firmly on Voldemort, who was surveying the platform with a sick, twisted smile on his face, but making no move. The parents, waiting to see their children off, were frozen with terror, and not moving an inch. Harry could see that Tonks, Nate, Kingsley and Mr and Mrs Weasley all had their wands pointed directly at the Death Eaters, although Mrs Weasley's was shaking in her hand. Harry glanced quickly to his side; Remus had drawn his wand, but had not yet raised it.  
  
Harry began to walk forwards, towards Voldemort, but Remus grabbed his arm tightly.  
  
"Harry, get on the train," he said.  
  
"Remus, there is no way I'm getting on that train, I can fight them, I can fight him, I've been training all summer, and. . ."  
  
"Harry, there's no time for this!" he hissed suddenly, not looking at Harry, but keeping his eyes fixed on Voldemort and the Death Eaters. "They haven't seen us yet, there's too many people in the way. Get on the train, and go straight to the driver. Tell him to leave the station immediately."  
  
"But. . ."  
  
"No buts, Harry. It's the only way your whole school isn't going to be massacred today." Harry swallowed.  
  
"I can't just jump on to the train, they'll see me," he muttered out of the side of his mouth, even though Voldemort and the Death Eaters were all the way down the platform.  
  
"Conceal yourself. Now!" Remus said.  
  
Harry slowly twisted his wand round, so the tip of it was facing towards his hip, thanking the stars that the Concealment Spell he was going to use could be cast on any part of the body and still conceal the entire body.  
  
"Abolesco," he said, as quietly as he could; he had turned himself invisible for thirty seconds.  
  
Looking down the platform at Voldemort and the Death Eaters, he saw that no-one seemed to have noticed him. Wasting no time, he jumped through the train door and sprinted as fast as he could through the thin corridors to the driver's compartment. The spell wore off just as he flung open the door. The driver, a short man with grey hair and a bushy mostauche, turned around in suprise, reaching for the wand that was on the chair next to him. Harry put his hands up in peace.  
  
"It's okay, I'm. . I'm Harry Potter," he said, grimacing as he said it. The man gasped in sudden recognition, gaping at his scar and opening his mouth. Harry growled, "don't start. There are Death Eaters on the platform. Get this train moving now."  
  
The driver paled, and opened his mouth to say something else, but took another look at Harry's face and shut it again. He nodded resolutely. "Yes, Mr Potter sir."  
  
Harry sprinted back down the corridor to the door he had entered on to the train from, almost falling over when the train suddenly started moving. On his way, he found many students in the corridor of the train, looking around worriedly; evidently, people this far up the train had felt the shockwaves from the collapse of the wrought-iron platform entrance, but had not yet realised that Voldemort and the Death Eaters were here.  
  
"Get back in the compartments!" Harry shouted at them as he went past, praying they would listen to him. "It's for your own good!"  
  
To Harry's suprise, most of them listened to him and quickly ran back into their compartments, although some just stared at him like he was a nutter and stayed standing where they were. Harry carried on running, and reached the train door he had entered the train from. It was locked.  
  
"Alohomora!" Harry cried, but to no effect. He pushed and pulled at it, but it wouldn't work. The train was gaining speed.  
  
There was nothing for it, he decided, raising his wand again. He needed to be fighting, and nothing was going to stop him.  
  
"Reducto!" he cried. The door was blasted backwards on to the platform and Harry jumped out after it, losing his footing and rolling uncontrollably when he landed due to the speed the train had been moving at. He picked himself up. The train was still gaining speed, and he could see the other student's gaping at him through the windows of it as it passed him. Harry forgot everything else for the minute and watched the train's progress; it was halfway out of the station now.  
  
Come on, come on, come on. . .  
  
Harry looked down the platform. There were Death Eaters running alongside the train, trying to wrench the doors open and climb on, and Remus and Tonks were running after them, but the train was moving too fast now, it was almost out of the station. Harry watched it go, his heart in his throat.  
  
Come on, come on, come on. . .  
  
It was gone. The Hogwarts Express left platform nine and three-quarters, billowing smoke as it went, and Harry breathed again. Everyone was going to be alright, he told himself, Ron and Hermione are going to be fine. . .  
  
A loud shriek brang him back to reality. Looking back down the platform, he saw that a real battle had now begun, and he saw Voldemort crying out, fury etched on his skeletal white face.  
  
Harry ran to meet him.  
  
As he ran, he passed Remus, who was Duelling with one of the Death Eaters who had been running alongside the train. Harry did not stop, and Remus did not see him. He passed Mr and Mrs Weasley, who were trying to herd the shellshocked parents to the far end of the platform, away from the Death Eaters. They did not see him.  
  
Nate was duelling with two Death Eaters at once, and seemed to be having no trouble at all, while a little further down from him, Tonks was being slowly beaten by a tall Death Eater with a strange object in his hand.  
  
"Vapulus!" Harry cried, knocking the Death Eater to the floor and giving him the sensation of being kicked hard all over his body for the next five minutes. He dimly heard Tonks cry of thanks as he continued down the platform to Voldemort, who was now Duelling furiously with Kingsley. Harry increased his speed. He had to get to Voldemort, he was the only one who could defeat him. . . .  
  
"Percutio!"  
  
The curse caught Harry off guard, and he barely dodged it by ducking; he felt the spell brush over his hair. Turning to his right, he faced the Death Eater who had fired the curse at him.  
  
"Prosterno!" Harry cried, but the Death Eater blocked it easily and sent it back at Harry, who jumped nimbly out of the way, allowing the Death Eater to take a chance.  
  
"Noceo!" the man cried, taking advantage of Harry's momentary pre- occupation with avoiding his previous curse and firing straight at him. Harry rolled to the side, and as he came out of the roll he pointed his wand at the Death Eater and cried, "Stupefy!" the Death Eater collapsed forwards on to the platform floor, and Harry continued on his way towards Voldemort, ducking a wayward spell from his left as he ran. He had almost reached Voldemort now.  
  
Kingsley was struggling against Voldemort now, barely avoiding his spells and not even casting his own. Suddenly, Voldemort flicked his wand slightly, and Kingsley's wand flew out of his hand and into Voldemort's. Kingsley fell to his knees. Voldemort raised his wand.  
  
"Crucio!" Voldemort cried, at the same time that Harry cried, "Declino!"  
  
The spell was deflected away from Kingsley, which had been Harry's intention. Voldemort looked around wildly, his eyes widening when they finally rested on Harry.  
  
"Well, well. . .we meet again, Potter."  
  
Harry could hear the battle around him die down, or maybe the sound of it was muted temporarily for him, as he stared into Voldemort's pitiless red eyes, his wand raised and ready to attack. Voldemort stared right back, his wand at the ready as well. Neither moved. Suddenly, Voldemort sneered, and began to talk to Harry. His wand arm did not relax.  
  
"Potter, I am giving you one last chance. End your life, and your friends will live. Join me, fight with me, and your friends will live. Fight against me, and I will kill every one of them, slowly and painfully, ending with you. The choice is yours." Harry stared back at Voldemort unflinchingly.  
  
"I will fight you, Riddle, and you will not touch any of my friends. Not if you value your life," he said, more bravely than he felt. Voldemort sneered again.  
  
"So be it," he said, and raised his wand.  
  
"Crucio!"  
  
"Protego!"  
  
The Cruciatus Curse bounced harmlessly off Harry's shield, and Voldemort's eyes widened. He had obviously not expected Harry to be able to block the curse. He sneered at him again.  
  
"Potter, you've finally learnt some skills," he said softly, a cruel smile playing on his face, "but it's time I. . ."  
  
"Everbero!"  
  
Voldemort barely dodged the spell, looking startled as he did so. He stared at Harry with widened eyes, and Harry glared at him. Voldemort raised his wand again, but before Harry could defend himself, Voldemort had Disapparated.  
  
Harry twisted round, remembering Voldemort had used that trick in his fight with Dumbledore at the Ministry, but this time, he was nowhere to be found. Looking to his left, he saw another Death Eater running towards him, his wand raised. Harry quickly raised his.  
  
"Prosterno!" the Death Eater cried, and Harry quickly screamed, "Protego!"  
  
The spell bounced back at the Death Eater, who ducked.  
  
"Reducto!" Harry cried, pointing his wand at the Death Eater's feet, who jumped backwards too late. The spell made contact with the man's right foot, and Harry winced at the sight and sound of his foot exploding loudly, with an odd squelching noise. The Death Eater slumped to the floor screaming, dropping his wand as he did so.  
  
"Stupefy!" Harry cried, and the Death Eater collapsed and lay unmoving. Harry smiled grimly.  
  
"Aperio!"  
  
Harry heard the spell coming from his right, but he had no time to react. The spell made contact and the world suddenly went very blurry, and he could not see clearly; his glasses had been knocked off. He saw a black blur appear in front of him.  
  
"Expelliarmus!" he cried, pointing his wand in it's direction, but the spell didn't seem to do anything to it, and the blur screamed, "Impedimenta!"  
  
Harry felt himself being blasted backwards, and he collided with something hard. Everything went black, and Harry knew no more.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
"Don't know what he was thinking, he could been killed, and. . "  
  
"Lay off him Remus, what did you expect him to do, just sit on the train and pretend nothing had happened?"  
  
"Yes, that's exactly what I expected him to do! I thought he had more sense than this."  
  
"That's enough you two, it's happened now, you can't go back and change it. Besides, any of us would have done the same thing in that position, wouldn't we?"  
  
"Of course, but none of us are sixteen years old!"  
  
"You must accept, Remus, that Harry is not an ordinary sixteen year old, no matter how much you want him to be."  
  
There was a deep sigh, and then silence. Harry slowly opened his eyes; the world wasn't blurry anymore; got my glasses back then, he noted. He groaned.  
  
"Harry!"  
  
Seconds later, the concerned faces of Remus Lupin, Nate Gonzales and Nymphadora Tonks were peering down at him where he lay, looking worried.  
  
"How are you feeling Harry?" Remus said, his voice soft and anxious. Harry smiled slightly at him.  
  
"I'm alright." He sat up, swaying dangerously as he did so, and Remus took his shoulder and gently pushed him backwards, where his back connected with a hard surface. Looking down, Harry saw he was sat on a cold, metal bench on platform nine and three-quarters. Full memory flooded back to him, and Harry looked anxiously at the three adults in front of him.  
  
"What happened?" he asked quickly, "is everyone okay?"  
  
The three of them exchanged dark looks, and Remus turned to Harry.  
  
"What do you remember of what happened?" he asked.  
  
"Everything. Now tell me what happened after I got knocked out."  
  
"Harry, I need to know what you remember, there might be a few memory problems from the knock you took. . "  
  
"There's nothing wrong with my head!" Harry shouted, "just tell me what happened!"  
  
Nate, Remus and Tonks exchanged looks again, and Nate turned to Harry with a grim expression on his face.  
  
"The good news is that the train got out of the station, and nobody on it is hurt." A strong feeling of relief came over Harry, and he rested his head on the cold backrest of the bench he was sitting on. Ron and Hermione were okay, he thought in relief, and Neville, and Ginny, and Luna, and Dean, and. . .Harry suddenly started, and sat up to look again at Nate, who was still wearing a grim expression.  
  
"Wait a minute. . you said that's the good news?" he asked. Nate nodded slowly, lowering his eyes. Harry took a deep breath, preparing himself, and said, "well, what's the bad news?"  
  
"Not every student was on the train when it left the station. Seventeen are. .are dead. The rest we managed to protect."  
  
Harry put his head in his hands, resisting the urge to break down and cry. It was all his fault, they would never have been killed if it hadn't been for him. It was all his fault. . .he felt like crawling into a dark hole and never coming out.  
  
Suddenly, Harry felt extremely angry with himself. People had just died, lost their lives, and here he was, selfishly drowning in his own guilt over something that he could not have prevented. He quickly pulled his head up, startling Nate as he did so, and looked him in the eye.  
  
"Who else?" he asked, "what about any of the parents? Did anything happen to them?"  
  
"A few of them joined us in fighting the Death Eaters. Some were killed. The rest were thankfully herded to the other end of the platform by Arthur and Molly Weasley."  
  
"The Weasley's!" Harry exclaimed, remembering seeing them as he ran to confront Voldemort. "They're okay? What about Fred and George?"  
  
"They went to the Ministry at the beginnning of the attack, to inform Aurors of the attack. They didn't want to go, but they are members of the Order now, they'll do what their told. Now, Harry, are you. . ."  
  
"How many parents were killed?" Harry interrupted.  
  
"Harry, you need. . ."  
  
"Answer my question." Nate gave him a startled glance, and relented.  
  
"Eleven lost their lives." Harry sighed. Twenty eight all together. . .  
  
"What are their names?" Nate gave him a puzzled look.  
  
"The parents or the students?"  
  
"Both." Nate sighed.  
  
"Are you sure you want to know?"  
  
"I wouldn't ask if I didn't." Nate gave him a strange look, but answered him anyway.  
  
"Three second year Slytherins, Alastair Scrimgeour, Francus Murray, and Tom Ford. Four Ravenclaws, three third years, Joanne Methven, Rose Usilar and Janeeta Depitt, and a second year, David Scone. Four Hufflepuffs, two fourth years, Janey Quagmire and Maria Goudge, and two seventh years, Toby Reeves and Eric Tyler, who both joined us in fighting the Death Eaters. Two Gryffindor second years, Robert Jones and Edward Westwick, and four first years, Stan Thornley, Steven Blacklock, Emma Watson and Simon Adams."  
  
Harry let out the breath he had been holding in. He did not know whether to be thankful or not that he had not known any of the people whose names that Nate had said. He had recognized some of them, but he was sure that he had never really spoke to any of them, and he felt guilty for being relieved when none of his friends were stated, because their lives were no more important than those who had died, so what right did he have to feel relieved?  
  
"Harry?"  
  
Harry looked up (he had lowered his head to the floor as Nate had spoke, unable to look at anyone) to see Nate looking at him with concern. "Are you okay?"  
  
Of course I'm not okay, Harry thought bitterly in his head, you've just told me the names of seventeen people whose deaths I'm inadvertantly responsible for, but to Nate he simply nodded.  
  
"What about the parents?"  
  
As Nate recited the names of the parents who had lost their lives, Harry's head began to spin. So much death. . .how could people murder so easily? He wondered, disgusted. He didn't recognize any of the parent's names, and again felt guilty for feeling relieved that he didn't.  
  
Nate finished, and Harry closed his eyes, vowing to the victims of the Death Eaters that he would seek revenge for them. Nate, who had been standing in front of him, moved to the side to talk to Remus, seemingly sensing that Harry needed some time alone, and as he moved to the side, Harry gasped.  
  
Since he had regained consciousness, his view of the rest of platform nine and three-quarters had been blocked by Remus, Tonks and Nate, them having been standing in front of the bench he was sitting down on. But now that Nate had moved he could see the entire platform, and he could see the full extent of Voldemort's and the Death Eater's attack.  
  
Death. That was the only word that Harry could find to describe the scene in front of him. Women were crying, men were shouting, children were screaming, witches and wizards with the emblem on their robes that he remembered from St Mungo's (of a wand and a bone crossed) were levitating bodies, all covered in thick white sheets, on to stretchers and to a sealed- off part of the platform. He could see Mrs Weasley, attempting to comfort a group of young girls who were crying hysterically (Harry recognized the two fourth year Gryffindor girls who had asked him and Ron who had tried to get into the girl's dormitories last year), and Mr Weasley, talking intensely to a group of Aurors, who were standing guard over five stunned Death Eaters.  
  
Anger and hatred suddenly pounded through Harry, and he felt an overwhelming urge to run over to the Death Eaters and hurt them, to punish them for the pain they had caused to all these people, to hurt them so much they had wished they had never wished they had never been born. . .  
  
The urge was so powerful that he stood up and began to walk forwards, his eyes focused intently on the stunned Death Eaters, but after only a few strides he found his way blocked by Tonks.  
  
"And just where do you think you're going?" she questioned. Harry glared at her.  
  
"Move Tonks. I'm going to give them a taste of their own medicine, see how they like being tortued and killed." Tonks widened her eyes and looked taken back by his answer, but quickly recovered. She did not move out of his way.  
  
"You can't Harry."  
  
"Why not? If they can do it so easily, why can't I?"  
  
"Because if you could, you'd basically be a Death Eater yourself. Don't sink to their level, Harry. You're better than that."  
  
"Then how are they going to be punished?"  
  
"They'll be sent to Azkaban." Harry growled in frustration.  
  
"What's the point? There's no Dementors there anymore, Voldemort's going to break it open soon anyway."  
  
"Well then what else do you think we should do with them?" Tonks asked.  
  
"Kill them." Tonks jumped back from him.  
  
"You don't mean that," she said quietly. Harry looked hard at her, prepared to tell her that's exactly what he thought, but as he looked at her, suddenly very young looking, he came back to his senses, realising what he had just said. He suddenly felt lightheaded, and he swayed on his feet. Tonks gripped his shoulder.  
  
"You alright?" she said gently. Harry said nothing. "Come on." Tonks guided him back to the bench he had been sitting on, and Harry gratefully sat down heavily and put his head in his hands, shaking.  
  
How had Voldemort done this to him? He wondered. How had Voldemort turned him into someone who wanted to cause people pain?  
  
But they deserve it, a voice in his head said, they've done it themselves, they deserve to feel the pain they've inflicted on others. Harry nodded. That's what I think too, he told the voice.  
  
But then what makes you any better than them? A different voice questioned. If you tortue and kill them as well, what makes you the right side?  
  
We didn't do it in the first place, Harry argued, they tortue and kill innocent people for fun, we'd just be delivering justice to people who are guilty.  
  
What gives you the right to decide that death is justice?  
  
Harry started. What did give him the right to say that? He wondered. What gave him the right to say that they deserved death? He wasn't God or anything, how could he decide who deserved to die and who deserved to live? And, if he and the Order and the Ministry did kill the Death Eaters after capturing them, what made them any better than the Death Eaters themselves?  
  
"You'd basically be a Death Eater yourself. Don't sink to their level, Harry. You're better than that."  
  
Tonks was right, Harry decided. By believing that death was the answer, he would be sinking to the Death Eater's level, and Harry knew he was better than that. He would not sink that low. Nobody deserved death. Hadn't he stopped that little rat Wormtail from being killed just two years ago, believing that he could be punished some other way without resorting to murder?  
  
But isn't it your destiny to kill someone? Another voice said, this one painfully blunt. "Either must die at the hand of the other," wasn't it?  
  
There was no answering voice this time, no argument to combat this statement. Harry felt like sobbing. He had no choice; no matter how much he hated it, there was no choice; he had to be a murderer. It was either kill or be killed, and he'd be dammned if he was going to die and leave the world with that monster. Might as well get used to it, he thought bitterly, I'm going to have to kill him. Harry buried his head deeper into his hands, shutting his eyes tightly, wishing for any other life than this one, wishing that he would never have to kill anyone. . .  
  
He stayed like that for what seemed to be hours, but in reality was only five minutes. At length Harry shook himself and pulled his head out of his hands, telling himself over and over again that this was neither the time nor the place to fall apart. He stood up, looking at Remus and Nate, who were peering worriedly at him, looking like they had been watching him for a while. Tonks had gone to talk to the group of Aurors guarding the Death Eaters, but kept glancing back at him, and all the student's and parent's bodies had now been levitated to the sealed-off part of the platform. The witches and wizards with the St Mungo's emblems on their robes seemed to be attaching little coins to each of the bodies. The remaining students and parents were now at the far end of the platform, the students sitting on the benches that littered the platform, many of them wrapped in thick blankets, while the parents stood proctectively over them. Harry turned back to Nate and Remus.  
  
"What's going to happen now then?" he asked. Remus seemed relieved to hear him speak.  
  
"The Hogwarts Express is coming back for the other students. Well, the ones who are still going to Hogwarts," answered Remus. Harry was confused.  
  
"What do you mean?" he asked. Remus looked grim.  
  
"Well, a lot of these parents aren't going to want their children out of their sight now, are they? Not after this. . ."  
  
Harry nodded glumly, looking towards the floor.  
  
"Harry."  
  
Harry looked up, to see Remus looking at him with a strange expression on his face.  
  
"Yeah?" Harry said.  
  
"What were you thinking, jumping off the train? Why did you do it?" he looked slightly disappointed. Harry bristled.  
  
"What was I doing?" he repeated. "I was fighting the Death Eaters! What have you been training me for all summer if not to do that?"  
  
"Yes, but you didn't need to fight them, we had it under control," put in Nate.  
  
"Oh, you had it under control, did you? And what would you have done about Voldemort?" Nate flinched. He opened his mouth, but Harry guessed what he was going to ask. "Remus told me that Voldemort was starting to get scared of me and seeing me as a threat, so I figured that I could scare him off, even if I couldn't actually beat him."  
  
The two of them looked at him incredulously.  
  
"Scare him off?" Remus said, as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Scare him off?" he repeated.  
  
Harry was spared the trouble of defending himself again when a voice behind him made him jump.  
  
Harry twisted round, to see Kingsley Shacklebolt standing there. He was no longer disguised as a Rastafarian, and he was wearing his scarlet Auror robes. He held out his hand to Harry. Harry shook it.  
  
"Thank you, Harry." Harry guessed what he was thanking him for; for saving him from Voldemort torturing him and, without a doubt, killing him. Harry shrugged.  
  
"No big deal." Kingsley nodded.  
  
"It was a battle situation, you did your best to protect your allies while still avoiding harm yourself. Excellent. Although you should always remember that your first priority should be to keep yourself from harm more than your allies. And yet; you prevented me from being hit by a Cruciatus Curse cast by You-Know-Who. I am in your debt. What can I do to repay you?"  
  
"Um, repay me? Well, you can stop calling Voldemort You-Know-Who. Call him Voldemort."  
  
For the first time since he had met him, Harry saw a expression of fear on Kingsley's face as Harry named Voldemort. But he still nodded resolutely.  
  
"As you wish, Harry." Harry gave him a small smile, and Kingsley bowed and strode away to another group of Aurors, who had just Apparated onto the platform.  
  
"Harry!"  
  
Harry turned to his left, to see Mr and Mrs Weasley running towards him. Mrs Weasley crashed into him, giving him a tight hug, and Harry saw Mr Weasley smiling at him over her shoulder. She broke away from him, and she seemed to be trying not to cry.  
  
"Harry, what are you doing here? I saw you get on to the train!" Harry shrugged.  
  
"I jumped off. I had to fight the Death Eaters. You understand, don't you?" he said, giving her a pleading smile. He was sick of defending himself for what he had done. Mrs Weasley gave him a small, sad smile.  
  
"I wish I didn't, but yes, I do understand." Harry smiled at her, understanding what she meant. She looked almost closer to tears now. Mr Weasley clapped him on the shoulder.  
  
"As much as it pains me to admit it, it was the right thing to do, Harry. Could you tell Ron and Ginny when you see them that we're fine? There's just too much here to sort out, we haven't got the time to see and explain everything to them. Tell them we'll send them an owl tonight."  
  
Harry nodded, and after Mr Weasley had shaken his hand and Mrs Weasley had given him another bone-crushing hug, they walked away. As they did, Harry heard Mrs Weasley snifle, "he's so young," and he saw Mr Weasley put his arm around her. Harry watched them go, a strange feeling in his stomach.  
  
A sudden loud bellowing sound made him jump, and he reached for his wand. Looking to his left, he saw the Hogwarts Express, in all it's glory, returning to platform nine and three-quarters. Harry breathed a sigh of relief to see it. The Death Eater's plan, for the most part, had failed; the majority of the students had escaped from being massacred, and the Death Eaters had not even managed to get on to the train. Still, twenty eight had been killed, and that was more than enough, Harry thought grimly, as he watched the splendid scarlet train move slowly into the station.  
  
Suddenly, he jumped. He had instinctively reached for his wand when what he now knew was the train's horn had made such a loud, startling noise, and now he realised that his wand was not actually there. He turned to Remus, who was still looking startled at Harry's explanation and belief that he could scare Voldemort off.  
  
"Where's my wand?" he asked. Remus started, and withdrew Harry's wand from a pocket in his long trenchcoat and handed it to Harry. Evidently, he had forgotten about it as well.  
  
"I apologise Harry, I forgot." Harry shrugged.  
  
"S'alright." But Remus didn't look like he was finished.  
  
"I also apologise for asking why you jumped off the train. It was. . it was the right thing to do," he said, looking like he really did not want to admit it, however. Harry smiled, and held out his hand.  
  
"Thanks again, Remus. For the summer, I mean." Remus smiled back, and shook his hand.  
  
"The pleasure was all mine, Harry. Have a good year. Oh, and owl me from time to time, will you?" Harry nodded.  
  
"Of course." Harry turned to Nate, and held out his hand again. Nate shook it without hesitation.  
  
"Thanks again to you as well, Nate. Can you tell the others I said thanks?" Nate smiled.  
  
"It will be my pleasure. I hope to meet you again some time, Harry. You are a remarkable young man." Harry blushed.  
  
"Yeah, thanks," he mumbled, "do you two reckon I'll be able to go to Grimma. .the, uh, place, for Christmas?" Remus smiled.  
  
"I don't think it should be a problem. I'll let you know." Harry smiled again.  
  
The train had now come to a halt, and Aurors were approaching it and climbing on to it, their scarlet robes making them hard to see next to the scarlet Hogwarts Express. Both the victim's bodies and the witches and wizards from St Mungos were now gone from the platform, and the remaining students were now saying tearful goodbyes to their parents and clambering on to the train, many still wrapped in thick white blankets. However, some of the students did not move from the benches, and their parents were making no effort to get them to.  
  
Harry turned back to Nate and Remus. "See you then." They both said goodbye to him again, and Harry walked towards the train. His heart sank again as he made his way there, seeing crying, distraught parents and students littered on the platform, and Aurors with grim faces looking suspiciously around at every shadow. Is this what my life's going to be like from now on? He wondered.  
  
People were beginning to point at him and whisper to each other as he passed them, and Harry increased his speed, quickly jumping on to the train through the first door he saw. He leant against the wall of the train for a moment, breathing. The full extent of the attack was beginning to get to him again, as he saw all the faces of those who had been caught up in it, and the image of the victim's bodies with thick white sheets over them came viciously to the front of his mind. He felt sick.  
  
After a moment he composed himself, and, still feeling queezy, he began to make his way down the thin corridor, glancing in the compartments he passed to see if Ron and Hermione were in them. He saw people pointing and looking curiously at him as he passed, bursting into excited conversation as he continued on his way. After a few minutes he found a compartment with only one girl in it, sitting alone with her head down. She had bushy hair. Harry slid the door open and entered, closing it behind him.  
  
"Harry? Harry!"  
  
Hermione jumped up and ran to him, hugging him tightly. Harry did not hug her back. She pulled away from him, looking up at him worriedly. Her face was blotchy, and her eyes were red; it was clear she had been crying.  
  
"Harry, oh everyone's been so worried about you, what were you thinking, jumping off the train like that? Why didn't you tell any of us? Are you hurt? Harry? Harry?" she said uncertainly, for Harry had held up his hand to quiet her.  
  
"Hermione, please, don't start at the moment, I feel bad enough as it is." Hermione's expression, if possible, turned even more anxious.  
  
"Why?" she asked."What happened?" Harry sighed.  
  
"Can we just leave it for a minute?" he said quietly. Hermione reluctantly nodded, slowly. "Where's Ron?" he asked. Hermione pointed down the corridor, the same way Harry had come.  
  
"He went to look for you. So did Neville and Ginny. I stayed here in case you missed eachother and you didn't know what compartment we were in. The Aurors won't let anyone get off the train, but Ron said he'd just stun them if they tried to stop him from getting to you, and Ginny and Neville agreed." Even Hermione looked like she agreed, a sudden fierce look in her eyes contrasting strangely with the worry and anxiety etched on her face. Harry smiled, feeling a bit better learning of how much his friends cared for him. Hermione was still looking both fiercely and worriedly at him.  
  
"Harry, please, tell me what happened." Harry sighed wearily.  
  
"Look, just wait until Ron, Ginny, and. .did you say Neville? Just wait until they get back, I'll tell all of you then, okay? Is there anyone else?" he asked.  
  
"Luna was here as well, but an Auror came and took her away, he said that her dad was on the platform and that he wanted to see her. She should be back soon."  
  
Harry nodded, and was about to sit down when the compartment door slid open, revealing Neville Longbottom, looking the same as ever. He smiled at Harry.  
  
"Hi Harry!" he exclaimed. "We've been looking everywhere for you, I'm glad you're alright! So what happened on the. .don't worry, Ron'll be back in a minute," he said, looking quite hurt as Harry suddenly looked over his shoulder to see if Ron was behind him. Harry flushed, and turned back to Neville.  
  
"Sorry, Neville. Did you have a good summer?" he asked, feeling guilty. Neville shrugged.  
  
"It was alright. I finally got a new wand, but the whole family's treating me like some sort of hero for going to the Ministry with you, which is just annoying. I mean, there was nothing heroic about what I did." Harry shook his head in disagreement, trying to stop his stomach spinning even more as he remembered the battle at the Ministry.  
  
"You saved my life, with Macnair, didn't you? That was heroic, even if you say nothing else was." Neville started, as if he hadn't thought of this, and smiled bashfully.  
  
"Suppose so," he mumbled, looking slightly pleased with himself, breaking off talking as a voice drifted down the corridor towards them. Neville, who was still standing in the doorway of the compartment, poked his head out.  
  
"It's no use Nev," the voice said, "he's not on the bloody train, we've searched everywhere, he must be on the platform. You coming with us? Get Hermione out here as well, she'll be able to get past the Aurors easily."  
  
"It's alright Ron, he's in here!" Neville called, his round face grinning. The voice muttered something quietly, and then there were sudden loud footsteps coming closer, and seconds later Neville had been pushed through the doorway into the compartment, and Ron Weasley was standing there, looking immensely relieved to see Harry. He strode over to Harry and shook his hand, and then, to Harry's great suprise, pulled him into a rough one-armed hug, quickly letting go. He smiled at Harry, who smiled back weakly.  
  
"You alright, mate?" Ron questioned, looking anxiously at Harry, who nodded.  
  
"Good. Now you can tell us WHAT THE HELL YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE DOING JUMPING OFF THE TRAIN LIKE THAT!"  
  
"Ron!" Hermione said, looking scandalized, "what did I just say?" Ron's ears went red, and he visibly calmed himself down, and mumbled, "sorry" to Harry, but continued to stare at him, now with a hurt expression on his face.  
  
"We're supposed to be friends, Harry," he said, making Harry's stomach churn even more horribly, "how comes you didn't say anything? I mean, you didn't even come to see us, you just jumped straight off. We could have helped." Harry sighed.  
  
"I. .I didn't think about it like that. I mean, all I wanted to do was make sure you two and the rest of the school were safe, and when I saw Voldemort on the platform, I knew I had to. . .  
  
"You-Know-Who was on the platform?" Ron said quickly in a high voice, quite unlike his usual tone. He seemed so suprised that he had even forgot to flinch at the name. Neville and Hermione gaped at Harry incredulously, while Ron stared at him in disbelief. "Are Mum and Dad okay? What about Fred and George?"  
  
"There all fine, Fred and George went to get the Aurors from the Ministry, and your mum and dad are looking after the children." Ron sighed deeply in relief, and sat down hard. He turned to look at Harry again.  
  
"You're serious? You-Know-Who himself was there? And Death Eaters?" Harry nodded.  
  
"Yes, I'm serious, he was there. Anyway, did you want a explanation or not?" Ron nodded mutely, along with Neville and Hermione, who were giving Harry all of their attention. "Anyway, when I saw him there, I. ."  
  
"What about my gran?" cut in Neville, looking like he'd just remembered about her, "is she okay?"  
  
Harry thought for a minute, and then said slowly, "I don't remember seeing her on the platform. . . . is her surname Longbottom as well?" Neville looked confused.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Then she's fine." He breathed in relief as well, and Neville and Ron shared a quick smile, understanding what the other was feeling. Ron turned back to Harry.  
  
"So, why did you jump off the train?"  
  
"Well, when I saw Voldemort, all I thought of was. ."  
  
He broke off in mid-sentence when another voice floated down the corridor to the compartment. Ron poked his head out of the compartment like Neville had done.  
  
"Have you found him yet, Ron? I've looked all down this way, he's not here, maybe he's in the toilet or something. Have you checked the toilets on your side?" Harry saw the side of Ron's face scrunch up.  
  
"Stop talking about Harry and toilets will you?" Ron said in a disgusted voice, "he's here now."  
  
"Oh!" exclaimed the voice, and seconds later Ron was pushed through the doorway of the compartment, and Ginny Weasley stood in the doorway, looking out of breath. She smiled at Harry.  
  
"Hi Harry," she said, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear, "why did you jump off the train like that? What's going on? They won't let us get off the train. Do you know what's going on?" Harry nodded, and opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off yet again.  
  
"Virginia, I would hate to resort to leapfrogging over you, but I will have no choice if you do not move from the doorway."  
  
Ginny started and turned round, revealing Luna Lovegood standing there, her wand tucked behind her ear, a copy of The Quibbler under her arm, and wearing bright pink wellington boots that came up to her knees. Harry heard Ron stifle a giggle.  
  
"Sorry Luna, didn't see you there!" said Ginny pleasantly, moving into the compartment to let Luna pass. Luna glided in and sat down next to Neville, and locked her eyes on to Harry, staring unblinkingly at him. Harry looked back at her uncertainly.  
  
"Er, hi Luna," he said. Luna continued to stare at him for a minute before answering.  
  
"Hello, Braveheart," she said simply. Harry was puzzled by her greeting, and by everyone else's faces, they were as well. Ron was gaping at her.  
  
"Er, what?" he said to her, but she seemed to be ignoring him now, looking past Neville and Hermione and out of the window, twirling The Quibbler in her hands. Ron gave an irritated sigh and strode to the compartment door and slid it shut, and turned to face Harry, who was still standing. It was more comfortable to stay standing, he decided.  
  
"So, what happened Harry? Was You-Know-Who really on the platform?" Ginny made a strange noise in her throat and stared at Harry. Luna too turned her head to look at him.  
  
"You-Know-Who was on the platform?" Ginny squeaked out, in a strangled voice. "But. .but Mum and Dad were on the platform! And Fred and George! Harry, are they. . ."  
  
"They're all fine Ginny, your Mum and Dad are looking after the adults and children who were on the platform, and Fred and George are okay too." Ginny's visible relief gave Harry a strange feeling in his stomach; it was nice to make someone feel like that, he decided. Ginny stood up.  
  
"I'm going to see them." Harry shook his head.  
  
"Your Dad told me to tell you and Ron that they've got too much to sort out out there to see you. He said they'll send you an owl tonight." Ron bristled.  
  
"They haven't got time to see their own children?" he said in disbelief, also standing up. "That's rubbish, I'm going to. . ."  
  
"They're looking after people who've just seen people they care about die, Ron," Harry said quietly, "seeing you two when they know you're fine is not as important as looking after them at the moment." Ron looked ashamed of himself, and sat back down and hung his head. Ginny looked ashamed as well as she sat down; she was probaly thinking the same thing Ron was, Harry reckoned. There was a moment of silence until Neville spoke in a quiet voice.  
  
"So, what happened, Harry? You don't have to tell us if you don't want to," he added hurriedly. Harry sighed wearily, and leant against the compartment door. Everyone's faces, even Luna's, were fixed intently on him now. He looked at each of them in turn.  
  
"First tell me what happened with you, what you know, it'll make it easier to understand what I tell you then."  
  
"Well," began Ron slowly, "I suppose we should start when we first got on the train. Me and Hermione quickly found this compartment, which Neville and Luna and Ginny were already in, and I shouted to you to get on the train, and we saw you get on the train, after you'd finished talking to Lupin, and we thought you'd just come here to sit with us. Then there was that really loud crashing sound, and the train shook like there was some huge earthquake going on. We figured there was something definitely wrong, and we were going to come and find you, but the compartment door shut itself, and we couldn't get it open. We could hear adults outside in the corridor shouting for everyone to get in the compartments. Then the train suddenly started moving, and when we were out of the station Hermione finally found a spell to get the compartment door open, and we all came out to find you.  
  
"But we couldn't find you anywhere," said Hermione, taking up the story, "and when we got to the door we saw you get on to the train from, we found there was no door there, but there was some sort of magical barrier preventing us from going near the opening where the door used to be. We heard someone banging on a window, and we saw in the compartment next to the opening Hannah Abbot and Justin Finch-Fletchley banging on the glass. They told us through the glass that they'd seen you blow the door off with a Reductor curse, and that you'd jumped out on to the platform while the train was moving!"  
  
"So we were really worried now," said Ron again, "but there was nothing we could do at that moment, so we went back to the compartment. About ten minutes later, McGonagall's voice suddenly sounded through the train, probaly magically magnified. She said that there had been some 'slight trouble' on the platform with the train, and that there was no need to panic. But that didn't make sense. If it was just a problem with the train on the platform, why would you have jumped off the train on to the platform? We all reckoned we knew what the 'trouble' was, but none of us said it out loud."  
  
"And then," said Hermione again, "just as we were leaving the outskirts of London, the train came to a stop, and then began to move into London again, back to King's Cross. We were wondering what was going on, but there was no-one in the corridor and there were no more announcements from Professor McGonagall, so we didn't understand at all. When we arrived back on platform nine and three-quarters, all we could see out of the window was an empty platform, but then there were suddenly Aurors on the train, and people in the corridor, and Tonks came to see us and told us to stay in the compartment. She took Luna to see her Dad, but the rest of us got told to stay here."  
  
"Well we weren't going to do that," said Ron, "not when we didn't know where you were and if there was anything wrong with you, so me, Neville and Ginny came looking for you. Hermione stayed here in case we missed eachother. And that's it, really," he finished.  
  
"So," piped up Ginny, "what's your story?" Harry sighed deeply again.  
  
"Are you sure you want to know?" five heads nodded straight away; even Luna looked vaguely interested. Harry took a deep breath, and began.  
  
"I said goodbye to Remus and got on the train, and then there was that huge crash that made the train shake and cause shockwaves. I saw Remus's face outside; he looked terrified, probaly more for us lot than for himself, and I figured out that Death Eaters were probaly here. I jumped off the train, and saw about ten of the them at the other end of the platform. The huge crash was the Death Eaters destroying that iron entrance to the platform." Hermione gasped.  
  
"They destroyed the entrance to platform nine and three-quarters?" she exclaimed. "But that's been there ever since King's Cross was built, it was one of the most powerful magical barriers in the world!"  
  
"They probaly did it so everyone was trapped on the platform," cut in Ron, "they probaly weren't expecting the train to suddenly start moving, were they Harry?" Harry nodded at him.  
  
"No, they weren't. Anyway, I saw that the Death Eaters had destroyed the platform entrance, and I saw them all standing in one long line. They parted, and Voldemort walked forwards."  
  
Ron, Ginny, Neville and Hermione flinched and paled considerably, but Luna merely looked curious.  
  
"What does he look like?" she asked Harry. Ron stared at her in disbelief.  
  
"What does he look like?" Ron repeated incredulously, gaping at Luna, "do you really think Harry wants to think about that? What kind of stupid question was that? Why are you even here anyway?"  
  
"Ron!" said Harry, Ginny and Hermione sharply, at the same time. Neville glared at Ron, suprising Harry; he hadn't thought that Neville was particularly close to Luna, or that he'd stand up for her. Luna herself seemed unaffected; she just stared at Ron, who glared back at her. Harry spoke up.  
  
"She came to the Ministry with us Ron," he said sharply, "she deserves to know as much as the rest of you do." Ron frowned, but did not protest. He moved his eyes from Luna to Harry's face. Harry turned to Luna.  
  
"Trust me, you don't want to know what he looks like," he said simply. She did not protest, just nodded at him, and Harry continued. "Anyway, Voldemort walked forwards, and. ."  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
When Harry had finished talking, ending with when he had found the compartment with just Hermione in, the atmosphere of the compartment was one of stunned silence. Ginny was looking blankly at the floor, Neville was staring out of the window, not seeming to see the passing scenery (the train had left the station again while Harry had been talking), Hermione looked close to tears again (she had already cried twice through Harry's recollections), and Ron was sitting with his knees drawn up and his head in his hands. Luna had lost her permanently suprised look, and Harry could see tears rolling down her face as she stared still unblinkingly across the compartment at Ron's huddled form. Harry, still standing, was lost in his memories, continuinally going over the list of victims in his head. He had not forgot any of their names, nor what houses the students had been in, and he doubted that he ever would.  
  
After ten minutes of silence, Harry caught a movement out of the corner of his eye, and turned, to see Ginny looking at him. She looked unspeakably sad, and Harry felt a sudden jolt of intense guilt as he remembered that it was him who had caused her, and the rest of them, to feel like this. Ginny shook her head at him, and mouthed no.  
  
Harry jumped. Did she know what he was thinking? He wondered. He mouthed what? At her, and she replied with it's not your fault.  
  
No, a voice in his head said, it's Voldemort and the Death Eater's fault, not mine. Harry nodded in agreement, with both the voice and Ginny. Although he knew that none of the others blamed him, it still felt nice to have it acknowledged by one of them. He couldn't believe that Ginny had known what he was thinking though. Am I really that transparent? He wondered. He mouthed thank you at her, and turned away. He did not see her smile sadly at him as she too turned away, to look unseeingly out of the window.  
  
The heavy silence was broken after another ten minutes when Neville suddenly spoke, making everyone jump.  
  
"Harry, are you going to teach the DA again this year?"  
  
Harry looked at Neville in suprise, as everyone turned to look at him. In all truth, he hadn't even thought about whether or not he would continue to teach the DA this year. He supposed, with everything he had learnt over the summer, he could teach them everything they needed to know easily, and there was no doubt that they needed to know it all. However, it would be even more of a risk this time round, even without Umbridge around. . .  
  
"Yes," he said, and all five of them smiled at him, "but it's staying secret." Neville looked puzzled, as did everyone else, with the exception of Hermione, who nodded in agreement with him.  
  
"Why? Umbridge is gone, we don't have to keep it secret anymore," said Ginny. Harry stared steadily at them all.  
  
"If Voldemort finds out who is in the DA, the fact that I'm teaching it will mean that those students who are in it are supporting me, and Voldemort will go after them, both to get to me, and to show people what supporting me means, and if he can't get to them, he'll go after their families. That's why the DA stays secret." Everyone nodded, all of them looking uneasy at Harry's dark explanation of why the DA would stay secret. Neville looked slightly green.  
  
"Are you going to let Marietta Edgecombe back in?" asked Luna suddenly. Harry hesitated.  
  
"I don't know yet. I'm not letting anyone in who I'm not sure is 100% trustworthy. We risked it last year, and look what happened there, with Dumbledore having to leave and everything." Hermione beamed at him, obviously proud of how thoroughly he was planning things.  
  
"If you do let her back in, give her the explanation of why the DA stays secret, but make it much more graphic," said Ron viciously, and he proceeded to mutter a few curses under his breath about Marietta Edgecombe. Hermione scowled at him, and turned back to Harry.  
  
"There's going to be a lot more people wanting to join this year, now that everyone believes that Vol. . . that Voldemort's back," she said, still not totally at ease with saying Voldemort's name. "Are you okay with that Harry?" Harry nodded.  
  
"Of course, the more people I can teach to defend themselves the better. But remember, this group stays secret. If anyone asks, even some of those who were in the DA last year, I'm not doing it this year. I'm only going to tell people who I'm completely positive can be trusted. We'll tell people slowly, so nobody outside the group gets suspicious." Hermione nodded, and Ron shook his head at Harry, looking slightly impressed.  
  
"Since when did you get so safety-conscious?" he asked. Harry shrugged.  
  
"Just trying to learn from my mistakes, that's all."  
  
The compartment lapsed into a dark, heavy silence again, until a few minutes later when somebody knocked on the compartment door. Harry slid it open, being the closest one to it, to reveal the dimpled woman with the food trolley. They all brought some sweets, Harry buying a large stack of cauldron cakes and pumpkin pasties for everyone to share, and their spirits gradually rose as they munched away and began to chat, although Harry was aware of a unspoken, dark atmosphere in the compartment under the pleasant chit-chat; the Death Eater attack was not forgotten between the group, least of all with Harry, who could not stop himself continuinally reciting the names of the people who had lost their lives in the attack. It was making him feel increasingly worse and worse, and his grief over their deaths was beginning to make him think of Sirius again, of how much he missed him, of how much damage Voldemort and his Death Eaters had caused him; Harry vowed revenge yet again.  
  
As the Hogwarts Express moved steadily north Hermione's prediction was proved right, as everyone from the DA, besides Cho Chang, Marietta Edgecombe and Michael Corner ("he's probaly still bitter about our break- up," said Ginny matter-of-factly, making Ron fume at the mention of his little sister going out with boys) came by the compartment to ask Harry if he was teaching the DA again this year, and many more that had not been in the DA came round to ask if he was doing it this year, and if they could join. Harry informed them that sadly he was not, making many of them leave in a huff after telling him how selfish he was for not making the effort to help them defend themselves.  
  
A few minutes after Zacharias Smith and Terry Boot had left, both of them looking very disappointed with Harry, the compartment door slid open yet again, and this time, it was most definitely not someone from last year's DA.  
  
"You must be feeling great now, Potter," drawled Draco Malfoy, standing in the doorway of their compartment, and flanked by his enormous cronies Crabbe and Goyle. "Got to play the hero again on the platform, didn't you?" Harry sighed.  
  
"Get lost, Malfoy," he said lazily, turning to look out the window, pretending not to care, although inside his hatred for Malfoy was rising to his head. He heard Malfoy make a noise of indignation at Harry's quick dismissal of him, and Ron sniggered. Malfoy continued.  
  
"Got a nice little group together now, haven't you Potter? It's not just a Mudblood and a weasel following you around anymore, now you've got that pathetic excuse for a wizard Longbottom, a touched in the head Ravenclaw, and another Weasley brat licking your boots as well!"  
  
Both Harry and Ron jumped up, and Harry, who was closer than Ron to the doorway, turned to face Malfoy, who looked suddenly disconcerted at how tall Harry was now. Harry heard movement behind him, and a second later Ron appeared at his side. Crabbe and Goyle balled their hands into fists, cracking their knuckles.  
  
"Harry, Ron, sit down!" Hermione said sharply behind them, but Harry and Ron ignored her. Harry could feel hatred and anger pounding through him, his head throbbing with it as he glared at Malfoy's pale, pointed face.  
  
"Get out," said Harry stonily, and Ron nodded in agreement, glaring at Malfoy, who smirked.  
  
"Or what?" he drawled, "you're going to beat me up? Like Muggles? Typical reaction, can't even fight properly, no real wizarding blood in you at all." Malfoy looked like he wanted to spit at them.  
  
"We can use wands if you like," said Harry, drawing his wand and pointing it at Malfoy before he could say another word. Ron drew his as well. "You might actually have a chance then," he added, feeling a sort of satisfaction as he looked down at Malfoy, who was only up to his nose now. Malfoy took a step backwards, withdrawing his wand and continuing to smirk.  
  
"I might have a chance? I'd wipe the floor with the both of you," he said arrogantly, twirling his wand in his fingers nonchalantly. "But I'm not here to humiliate you two in a duel."  
  
"Then what are you here for, Malfoy?" said Ron, swiftly cutting him off. Harry's hatred and anger was growing as he glared at Malfoy, whose smirk got even wider.  
  
"I just wanted to offer Potter my condolences. You know, his dog died, didn't it? Poor Potter. You know what they say though, bad dogs have to be put down, don't they?" he laughed loudly, and Crabbe and Goyle chuckled stupidly along with him.  
  
Harry leaped forwards, but Ron grabbed him immediately, sensing how out of control Harry was. Harry struggled wildly against him, forgetting about magic; he only wanted to cause Malfoy as much pain as possible, to grab that smirking face of his face and smash it through a glass window, or to rip him apart, limb by limb. Malfoy was smirking at him again, but backing away slightly as he did so.  
  
"I also came by to congratulate you on being such a great hero, Potter, and saving so many Muggle-lovers and Mudbloods from being slaughtered on the platform. It's just such a shame that you couldn't rescue all of them, isn't it?" he laughed loudly again.  
  
Harry lost it, and, without being aware of even doing it, he pushed Ron to the side suddenly, pulled his fist back and smacked Malfoy across the jaw as hard as he could, a sickening crack sounding through the compartment as his fist made contact.. Sudden pain blossomed from his knuckles, but the pain was satisfying he decided, as Malfoy flew backwards into Crabbe and slid down his body to the train floor, out cold.  
  
Crabbe stepped forwards over Malfoy's prone form into the compartment and, drawing his large fist back, punched Harry hard in the stomach. Harry doubled over backwards and clutched his stomach, unable to breathe, and dimly saw Ron dart forwards and punch Crabbe hard on the nose, who stumbled backwards out of the compartment door at the impact of Ron's punch. Goyle took his place, and drew back his fist to punch Ron as hard as he could.  
  
"Stupefy!"  
  
Harry felt the spell fly past his nose as he stood gasping for air and saw it make contact with Goyle, who fell backwards on to the floor, narrowly missing Malfoy's body. He twisted round, to see Hermione standing with her wand out, still pointed at the place where Goyle had just been standing. He noted that both Ginny and Neville were also standing with their wands out. Luna was simply staring at Malfoy's still body. Crabbe seemed to have made a run for it.  
  
"Hermione. ." gasped Harry, suprised at her, "what. . did. .you. .do. . that for?" he gasped out.  
  
"How dare they!" she exclaimed. Harry had never seen her so angry; her face was white and her chest was heaving; she looked completely out of control. "How dare Malfoy say that about Sirius, and about. . .about those poor people!" she looked like she was having trouble trying to describe what she was feeling. Harry saw Neville back away from her slightly, looking startled.  
  
"Hermione, Hermione, calm down, what did you expect?" said Ron, turning his back on Malfoy and Goyle's bodies and turning to Hermione. "Malfoy's scum, they're all probaly Death Eaters already, don't listen to them."  
  
"Don't listen to them? Oh that's rich, coming from you Ron! You confronted Malfoy just because he insulted us, let alone people who were murdered no more than an hour ago!"  
  
"He called you a Mudblood," Ron ground out, "and he insulted my friends and my sister."  
  
"He's been calling me a Mudblood for years, Ron," Hermione countered, in a less rage-filled voice than before. She seemed to be calming down now, Harry noted. She had still not lowered her wand though. "Honestly, it dosen't bother me anymore, and you know that nothing they said about Ginny, Neville and Luna is true. Anyway, I. ." she gasped suddenly.  
  
"Harry, look at your hand!" she exclaimed suddenly. Harry said "what?" and looked down, jumping when he saw his hand. The skin was split along all his knuckles, and there was blood dripping out of the split onto the compartment floor and down on to the palm of his hand. The pain, pleasant and satisfying at first as he released his anger on Malfoy, suddenly turned viciously painful, and not in a good way. He heard everyone in the compartment gasp.  
  
"Bloody hell, Harry!" Ron exclaimed, peering at Harry's bloodied hand. Ginny stood up and went to inspect Malfoy's prone body, while Neville was still looking worriedly at Hermione, as if afraid she was going to turn round and attack him at any minute. Luna was seemingly reading The Quibbler again, although her eyes were fixed on Harry's bleeding hand over the top of it. "How hard did you hit him?" Ron said, in a awestruck voice. Harry shrugged, and Hermione took hold of his bloodied hand with hers, holding her wand steady with her other hand. She pointed it at the split skin on Harry's knuckles.  
  
"Sano." Harry watched in fascination as the skin seemed to pull itself back together, leaving only a jagged white line across his knuckles.  
  
"Cheers, Hermione," he said, shaking his hand to make sure it still worked properly. She frowned at him.  
  
"That's only temporary, Harry, you'd better go to the hospital wing when we get to Hogwarts." Harry nodded.  
  
A sudden noise from Ginny made Harry twist round, and he saw her looking at Malfoy's face with a smile on her face.  
  
"Why are you looking at Malfoy like that Ginny?" Ron said quickly, his ears and neck quickly getting redder and redder. Ginny jumped, and looked away from Malfoy and up at Harry.  
  
"You definitely broke his jaw," she said in an impressed voice, "looks like you knocked a tooth out as well," she added, pointing next to Goyle's outstretched hand, where a small white tooth lay. Ron visibly relaxed, seeing that Ginny was smiling because Malfoy was hurt, not for any other reason. Harry shook his head quickly; that image was sickening.  
  
"So what are we going to do about these two?" said Ron, taking his eyes off of Malfoy and kicking Goyle's unconscious form, lying next to Malfoy's slighter body, blood trickling out of his mouth and down his pale, pointed chin. "Chuck them in the corridor?" he suggested. Harry nodded.  
  
"Nothing better to do with them. Give us a hand, Neville, will you?"  
  
"You can't just leave them in the corridor!" said Hermione. Ron turned on her.  
  
"Got any better ideas then?" he challenged. Hermione nodded.  
  
"Of course I have. Chucking them in the corridor, honestly," she muttered, moving over to Goyle's body and pointing her wand at his chest.  
  
"Enervate."  
  
Goyle gasped and sat up, and, with what looked like a great deal of difficultly, slowly hauled himself to his feet. He looked around at them all, his eyes wide and frightened.  
  
"We aren't going to hurt you," said Hermione.  
  
"Not unless you're stupid enough to try anything," Ron growled, interrupting Hermione. She glared at him.  
  
"We aren't going to hurt you," she repeated, scowling at Ron, "just take your. .erm, friend, back to your compartment, and don't bother us again, and don't tell anyone about any of this, or next time, we'll all use our wands," she added threateningly. Goyle turned white, and, nodding stupidly, grabbed Malfoy's wand from the floor (it had flown out of his hand when Harry had punched him) and picked Malfoy's body up in his arms, and quickly ran out of the compartment. In his haste, he smashed Malfoy's head against the side of the door as he hurried away. The compartment burst into laughter, even Luna, and when they calmed down, Ron bent down to pick up Malfoy's knocked-out tooth and threw it straight out the window.  
  
"He'll look like a right twat now," he said simply. Harry agreed.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
The rest of the journey passed uneventfully, with the exception of a few more people coming by the compartment asking to join the DA, and an Auror who was protecting the train coming by to shake Harry's hand and congratulate him on fighting in the battle on the platform. The passing scenery slowly faded as night set in and a violent storm began, and as if the dark night and storm had willed it another heavy silence descended on the compartment, and Harry knew that everyone, like him, was thinking again obsessively about the Death Eater's attack. Eventually the six of them pulled on their school robes as the train began to slow down, a voice sounding through the train to tell them that they would be arriving in five minutes. Harry noticed that neither Ron or Hermione bothered to check their prefect badges as they pulled on their robes, and that their faces were grave, as were Ginny's and Neville's. Luna merely looked thoughtful, but there was a strange, distant look in her eyes as she pulled on her school robes.  
  
Ron and Hermione, as prefects, left the compartment to supervise the rest of the students getting off the train, and Neville, Ginny, Luna and Harry joined the crowd in the corridor outside of their compartment. The storm was now more violent than ever; Harry could hear constant loud claps of thunder, and the corridor was brightly lit up now and again when lightning struck outside. The rain was lashing down, making it hard to even see the platform beside the train through the murky windows. Luna, like last year, carried Pigwidgeon, and Ginny struggled with Crookshanks while Harry held Hedwig in her cage, finding it much easier to hold now that he was a bit taller. He stepped out onto the platform, forgetting the rain for a minute as he heard a familiar voice calling loudly above the violent thunder and lightning.  
  
"Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here, this way! All righ', you lot?" shouted Hagrid, waving an enormous hand at Harry, Ginny, Neville and Luna, who smiled and waved back. "See yeh at the feast, if this ruddy storm dosen' capsize all the boats! Oh, an' Harry, I need to talk to yeh abou' summat, come down fer a cup o' tea tommorow nigh' will yeh?"  
  
Harry shouted that he would and turned away, smiling. Hagrid being on the platform when he arrived in Hogsmeade every year was one of the things that made Harry feel most like he was coming back to where he belonged, that he was coming home, and not seeing him last year had been a horrible shock. He was glad Hagrid was back; it didn't seem right without him, and the sight of him here to greet him had risen his spirits a bit.  
  
The four of them passed through a narrow doorway on to the road outside, where Harry was confronted with the image of a hundred or so stagecoaches parked motionlessly, all with reptilian-like creatures standing between the carriage shafts in front of them.  
  
Harry stared at the Thestrals, a thousand emotions going through him as he did so. If it hadn't been for these creatures, Harry thought, then Sirius would still be alive. He was filled with sudden loathing for the evil looking creatures, looking even more sinister in the pouring rain, lightning frequently illuminating their black coats and wings. He glared at them, and one of them turned their head to look at him, it's white eye pupil-less and blank as it stared at him.  
  
Harry dropped his gaze, disturbed by the creature's strange eyes, and knowing deep down that what he had just thought wasn't true; if he hadn't known about the Thestrals, he would have found another way to get to the Ministry. It wasn't their fault, it was his; his stupidity at believing what people had been warning him about for nearly a year previously, his stupidity at not going to Snape straight away, or going down to Hogsmeade to make a firecall to someone who could help him, he could of tried the Burrow, for example. . it was all his fault. .  
  
He jumped when he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking down, he saw Luna standing there, not seeming to care about the rain beating down on her, looking up at him with a strange look in her eyes. He moved to the side slightly, and her hand dropped from his shoulder, making him sigh in relief. She did not seem to notice.  
  
"I don't suppose you're very happy with them at the moment, are you?" she said, gesturing to the Thestrals. Harry said nothing, and turned his eyes away from her. "They like you, you know." Harry looked down at her.  
  
"How do you know that?" he asked. She nodded for some reason, her eyes now on the Thestrals.  
  
"They're all smiling at you."  
  
Harry turned to look at the Thestrals. All of the ones he could see now had their heads turned to him and Luna, staring seemingly unseeingly at them, startling Harry. Why were they all looking at him? He wondered. He could not see any of them smiling though; indeed, how could they smile? He wondered. Their mouths were not shaped in a way that made it possible for them to smile. He turned back to Luna, who was now shaking her head at one of the Thestrals, as if having a silent conversation with it. Harry stared at her, and she gave him a small smile before strolling away to the carriages.  
  
A sudden bolt of lightning suddenly illuminated the night sky, and Harry turned to see a large tree burst into flames on the grounds beside the Hogwarts lake. As Harry watched the tree blaze, his thoughts on the Thestrals faded, and he remembered the names of the students and parents who had been so brutally murdered no longer ago than this morning, by people who did not know or care what they were taking away by torturing and murdering these people. Harry knew they would not be the only ones to die in this war, because that was what he was in now, Harry realised, a real war, one in which he was the only one who could end it. The fate of so many people rested on his shoulders now, and the longer it took for him and Dumbledore to create the spell to defeat Voldemort, the more people who would die. He was filled with a sudden burning feeling of determination, and he vowed to both himself and the victim's of the Death Eaters that he would create the spell as quick as he could. He looked to the sky, not heeding the wind and the rain, his hair wipping around his head, and vowed to his parents, Cedric and Sirius that he would end this war as quick as he could, and claim retribution for their deaths.  
  
The blazing tree's flames had been extinguised now by the storm's violent wind and rain, and Harry, taking a deep breath, turned slowly away from it, just as somebody called his name.  
  
"Harry, get over here!"  
  
Harry started, turning to his right to see Ginny poking her head out of a carriage and beckoning him towards her. Harry wrenched his eyes away from the now ruined tree, ran over to the carriage and jumped through the open door, finding the carriage already occupied by Ginny, Neville, Luna and a very wet and miserable looking Ron and Hermione.  
  
"What the hell were you two doing standing in the rain like that?" Ron said, as Harry wrenched the carriage door shut, effectively blocking out the wind and the rain of the storm. Luna turned to look at Ron.  
  
"I was telling Harry that the Thestrals like him," she said, with the air of telling someone a huge secret. Ron stared at her.  
  
"Uh, okay," he said, looking highly disconcerted, glancing at Harry worriedly for some reason. There was a strange silence for a few minutes, as Harry stared at the floor of the carriage, until Neville suddenly spoke up.  
  
"What do you think the new DADA teacher will be like?" he asked, looking round at them all. Harry shrugged, trying to shake off the dark, grim thoughts going through his mind.  
  
"No idea. Hope it's someone who we can actually learn from this year, though." Ron looked up at this.  
  
"That's an idea Harry, if they haven't found anyone decent to teach it, we can just get them sacked and you can teach it!" Harry laughed at Ron's joke, but was shocked when no one laughed along with him. Indeed, they were all looking like Ron had suggested something completely plausible.  
  
"It's not a bad idea though, Harry," piped up Ginny, and the other four nodded. Harry stared incredulously at them.  
  
"Oh come off it," he said weakly, "teaching the DA's one thing, but teaching the whole school Defence Against the Dark Arts? When I'm only in sixth year? That's just stupid."  
  
"It's not that stupid Harry," said Ron, "after all, it was you who got most of our year through the DADA OWL last year." There was a murmur of agreement.  
  
"Professor McGonagall told me in the summer at my careers meeting with her that our year had one of the highest DADA OWL results on average in the history of the school," said Hermione. "Maybe teaching is something you can think about doing after you leave school then, Harry," she said, smiling at him.  
  
"Maybe," mumbled Harry. He still sincerly doubted that he would even live that long, to leave Hogwarts and think about a real career, rather than just a dream of being a Auror. Hermione glared at him, as if she knew he was thinking negative thoughts.  
  
A few minutes later the carriages came to a halt near the stone steps that led up to the huge oak doors. Harry clambered out of the carriage last and stared gazing up at the castle of Hogwarts, not caring about the rain, a small smile on his face. He looked around, seeing students quickly running from the Thestral-driven carriages and up the stone steps to the warm castle, where warmth and a large feast awaited them. His friends stood on the steps, waiting for him. Harry looked around and breathed in the air of Hogwarts, a smile on his face as his dark thoughts of death and war faded from his mind for a while as the atmosphere and sight of Hogwarts filled his chest with happiness. He let out a deep, contented sigh.  
  
He was home. 


	7. Chapter seven: Return to Hogwarts

Harry Potter and the Path of War  
  
Chapter seven: Return to Hogwarts  
  
"Glad to be back?" Ron asked, as Harry joined him, Ginny, Luna, Hermione and Neville on the stone steps leading up to the large oak doors of Hogwarts. Harry smiled.  
  
"Definitely." They entered through the open doors, the warmth of Hogwarts hitting them immediately, and Ron, Hermione and Neville breathed deep, contented sighs.  
  
"Finally!" Ron exclaimed, shaking his wet hair vigorously, making Hermione yelp and jump away from him, "why did it have to rain today?"  
  
"Because they said it should rain today," said Luna, walking beside Ginny. Hermione turned to her, a curious expression on her face.  
  
"Who are. ." she began, before shaking her head suddenly and saying, "actually, forget it," irritably. Clearly, Harry thought, Hermione had finally given up on trying to understand Luna, and the strange things that she said continuinally. Ginny was trying not to giggle, and Neville just looked lost.  
  
The six of them made their way through the Entrance Hall and to the double doors on their right, that led to the Great Hall and the Hogwarts Welcoming Feast. As they entered, Harry saw that the enchanted ceiling that showed the night sky outside was a starless black tonight, rain falling from it and disappearing before it reached the candles that floated in midair above the four house tables, and lightning was frequently flashing across the ceiling, making students jump and briefly illuminating the Great Hall even more. Distant rumbles of thunder could also be heard.  
  
Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Neville made their way over to the Gryffindor table, and Luna dreamily drifted away from them to the Ravenclaw table. Harry shouted goodbye after her, and she turned and smiled at him before carrying on her way. Neville gave Harry a strange look that Harry could not discern.  
  
As they walked towards the Gryffindor table, Harry heard snippets of whispers and hushed conversations as he passed, all about him.  
  
"Jumped out of the train, he did!"  
  
"No he didn't, someone blasted the door and pulled him off!"  
  
"No they didn't, he jumped off it!"  
  
"Yeah right!"  
  
"He did too! You-Know-Who was there as well, and Potter went to fight him!"  
  
"Look, there he is, Harry Potter. He jumped off the train, trying to act like a hero, what an idiot."  
  
"Shut up, David! He did it to help save people's lives!"  
  
"Yeah, okay then."  
  
"He did! Stacey said that he scared You-Know-Who off as well!"  
  
"What? You-Know-Who was there?"  
  
"Why's Potter always trying to be the hero?"  
  
"Oooh, look, there he is, Joanne, Harry Potter!"  
  
"Did he really jump off the train? I think that they pulled him off it with a spell."  
  
"I don't know, they might have done. . ."  
  
Harry kept his head down and focused on Ron's large feet in front of him as he walked, trying desperately to stop the comments affecting him.  
  
After what seemed like a lifetime to Harry the five of them reached the Gryffindor table, and Ginny left them to go and sit with her fifth-year friends further down the table, while Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville sat down at the first opening they could find that would fit them all. As soon as he had taken his seat, Harry immediately turned to the front of the Hall, to look at the staff table. He immediately noticed Dumbledore, sitting at the centre of the table with dark green robes decorated with yellow moons, one of his hands stroking his long white beard absent- mindedly. To Dumbledore's right, he saw a wizard that he had never seen before. He had wavy black hair that reached down past his shouders, a rather tanned complexion, and was wearing jet black robes that were covered in small, silver stars. However, his most distinguishing feature was a gruesome-looking scar on his face, that started above his left eye and diagonally went down over his eye and mouth to the middle of his chin. He was talking quietly to Dumbledore, who seemed to be nodding in agreement with whatever it was that the man was saying.  
  
"Reckon that's the new Defence teacher, Harry?" came Ron's voice from Harry's right, who was still staring at the new wizard. Harry nodded, pulling his eyes away from the man and turning to Ron. "Yeah, must be, that's where the new one usually sits," he said to Ron. Ron nodded, and looked closely up at the man, and his eyes widened suddenly.  
  
"Blimey, look at that scar!" he exclaimed loudly, gaping at the man, and Hermione turned from her scanning of the staff table to glare at him.  
  
"Ron!" she hissed, "don't say things like that so loud!" Ron didn't seem to hear her; he was still gaping at the man. "And don't stare!" she added. Ron tore his eyes away from the new wizard, and turned to Harry.  
  
"Makes your scar look quite nice, dosen't it?" he said to Harry, who laughed. "Still, neither of you's nothing compared to Mad-Eye, I suppose," he said, and Harry agreed, and went back to scanning the staff table. He could see Snape glaring across the table at the scarred man, but it did not seem to be any different a glare that he usually gave to the new DADA teachers, so Harry didn't bother thinking about that. Looking past Snape, his eyes swept over Professor Sinistra, Professor Sprout, and tiny Professor Flitwick (who was, as usual, sitting on a large pile of cushions so that he could reach the table), and on to another wizard who he did not recognize, wearing pure black robes. The man had red hair that extended all the way down his back, a bushy red moustache and beard, and piercing blue eyes, and was staring down at the students with a hard and serious look on his face. Harry thought he looked slightly familiar.  
  
"Have you seen that other bloke, next to Flitwick?" he said to Ron and Hermione, who quickly turned to look in Flitwick's direction, their eyes widening as they saw who Harry was talking about. "What do you reckon he's doing here?"  
  
"What, that one that looks like a viking? Bit scary looking, in' e? Dunno what he's doing here though," Ron said, frowning, his eyes quickly flicking over the staff table from left to right, "all the other teachers are here." Hermione sighed.  
  
"Well, isn't it obvious?" she said to them, and Harry and Ron exchanged puzzled looks, making Hermione give another sigh. "He's the Spell Construction teacher, isn't he? That's the only new subject being taught this year. I hope. ."  
  
"What?" Harry interrupted sharply, looking hard at Hermione, "Spell Construction's a new subject? They've never taught it before?" Hermione shook her head.  
  
"Well, yes, it has been taught before, but it was taken off of the NEWT list twenty three years ago, and they haven't had it as a subject you could take since. Didn't you talk to Professor McGonagall about this? Oh, we had a very interesting conversation about Spell Construction, apparently the last teacher only had one arm, and her eye was. ."  
  
Harry tuned Hermione's voice out, as his thoughts took over his mind. He reckoned he had a pretty good idea exactly why Spell Construction was suddenly being brought back after twenty three years: because of him, because of the Line of the Protectors. What was it Dumbledore had said? That he would gain experience in Spell Construction of learning how to create spells? That's why it's being brought back, he thought to himself, so it can help me defeat Voldemort. He felt a strange sense of betrayal at thinking this, like he had been manipulated into doing something unwillingly, and he decided he would bring it up with Dumbledore at their meeting after the feast. He was brought back to the real world when the doors of the Great Hall suddenly opened, and Professor McGonagall marched in holding a stool with a battered, ancient wizard's hat perched on it and leading a line of terrified-looking first-years up to the Hall to the staff table, where they all lined up. Professor McGonagall set the stool with the battered hat in front of them, and stood back, waiting.  
  
As he and the rest of the school waited for the Sorting Hat to begin it's song, Harry looked closely at the first-years, and his stomach churned horribly. Stan Thornley, Steven Blacklock, Emma Watson, and Simon Adams. Four first-years had been killed already. He looked at them, wondering how many of them had just lost a childhood friend, or maybe a brother, or a sister. He wondered what houses the four who had died would have been in. He wondered if Steven Blacklock would have been an excellent Quidditch player for Hufflepuff, if Emma Watson would have been a smart, popular Ravenclaw, if Stan Thornley and Simon Adams would have been mischievous Gryffindors, playing pranks and causing Hermione even more trouble than Fred and George had. His stomach churned again.  
  
He had no more time to think such dark thoughts however, as the rip near the brim of the hat suddenly opened wide like a mouth, and the Sorting Hat began it's song:  
  
Another year has passed, and some are back, and some are gone,  
And new tests and challenges must now be begun.  
Last year I warned you; unite, or fall,  
And you paid no heed to my warning  
For our fair school.  
But time is running out, it is near high noon,  
And with every breath  
Our Hogwarts moves closer to doom.  
Now you may be thinking that my words are all of woe,  
But look closer and you will see the counsel I give,  
The counsel that will save our Hogwarts from this woe.  
I say to you again: Unite! For too long have the houses been split,  
And discord and enmity been master of us,  
And to unite is the only way we will survive the storm ahead.  
Unite! For the founders four created the houses for this purpose,  
And to stay divided is to pronounce the doom of Hogwarts,  
And the victory of those who would have our school fall into ruins.  
I will not sing this year of the merits of each house,  
For this is no longer needed,  
For you must see past the traditional traits of each house,  
In order to unite in partnerships of trust and equality.  
This warning I again have given,  
And this I say as my final word:  
The storm that is almost upon us  
Is less dangerous than the disunity  
That is master of these halls,  
And if we and our Hogwarts falls to these deadly, external foes,  
It will not be because of our enemy's strength over us, But because of our own weakenesses, because we are not united in defiance  
Of those that would have us defeated, of those that would  
Cover our Hogwarts in darkness. This I have told you again, and if my warning is again not taken heed of,  
No Sorting next year will be heard of.  
But, for now, let the Sorting begin.  
  
The Sorting Hat became motionless once again, and slumped down into the stool. There was some scattered, unenthusiastic applause, as most students just looked puzzled, the first-years looking very confused, and in no time at all there was a quick outburst of muttering and whispering, as students debated what the Sorting Hat had meant with it's song. Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged looks. Ron was the first to speak.  
  
"That was pretty cryptic, wasn't it? No Sorting next year will be heard of? What does it mean by that? That it's not going to Sort any students next year or something?"  
  
"Precisely," said Hermione quietly, "it's saying that if we ignore it's warning and don't become united with the other houses this year, next year it won't Sort students at all, it'll probably just chuck them in randomly into different houses. I have to say, maybe that is the best way to do things, even the Hat said it itself last year, that it was having doubts about the Sorting process. Maybe it's time for a change."  
  
Ron opened his mouth to speak, but at that moment Professor McGonagall cleared her throat loudly, and the whispers died down immediately. She pulled a long piece of parchment from a deep pocket in her robes, and read aloud the first name. The Sorting had begun.  
  
"Auxris, Harriet."  
  
A small girl with long red hair approached the stool apprehensively, looking terrified. She placed the Sorting Hat on her head, which covered all of her face down to her small chin, which could be seen trembling from the opening of the Hat. After a moment's pause, the brim at the bottom of the Hat opened like a mouth and shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!" The girl ran off to the Hufflepuff table with the Hat still on her head, and Harry snickered, remembering when Neville had done the same thing at their Sorting. Evidently Neville was remembering as well, because when Harry turned to him, he was the colour of a tomato.  
  
'Audley, Sarah' and 'Bryony, Daniel" were both sorted before 'Colieus, Cole' became the first Gryffindor. As the Sorting continued and the line of first-years lessened, clapping automatically when one was Sorted into Gryffindor, Harry found himself staring at the two new teachers frequently, wondering who they were, and where they had come from. Could they be trusted? He wondered. Was one of them a Death Eater in disguise, like Crouch had been? Was either of them members of the Order? Or was one of them from the Ministry, here to keep an eye on Hogwarts and Dumbledore, like Umbridge had been last year?  
  
Finally, 'Yale, Phillipa' became a Slytherin, and Professor McGonagall took away the Sorting Hat and stool, and Dumbledore got to his feet, his arms stretched wide as they always were at the Welcoming Feast. Harry felt a number of emotions within himself as he looked at Dumbledore, remembering their conversation about the Line of the Protectors only last night. Dumbledore had gone through what he was going through as well, Harry remembered.  
  
"Welcome!" Dumbledore cried, a wide smile on his face as he stood facing them all, "welcome to another year at Hogwarts! And, in fear of risking your wrath so early in the school year, I will wait until after the feast to bore you with a long speech. Tuck in!"  
  
The school applauded and laughed gratefully as Dumbledore sat back down, and food suddenly appeared out of thin air on the five long tables. The applause for Dumbledore died down as people dug in, and conversations broke out across the Hall.  
  
As Harry reached for the roast potatoes that Ron had already eaten most of, Hermione looked around quickly and then said quietly to Harry, "I think the Sorting Hat was talking about the DA, Harry." Harry and Ron gave her puzzled looks.  
  
"What?" said Harry quickly, forgetting the roast potatoes. Ron turned his attention away from the food and to their conversation as well. "It's talking about the DA? What do you mean? You said it was talking about Hogwarts! There's no disunity in the DA." Ron nodded in agreement, and Hermione gave them both a withering look.  
  
"Don't be stupid. I think it was saying that we should have Slytherins in the DA. You know, it was talking about the houses being united, and, at the moment, what other way is there to unite the houses other than the DA?" Harry looked incredulously at her.  
  
"Hermione, you agreed with me on the train that the DA needs to stay secret! How can it stay secret if we start letting Slytherins in?" he asked. Hermione stood her ground.  
  
"Not all Slytherins are bad, Harry," she said, with the tone of explaining something simple to a small child, "we'll just have to be careful which ones to trust."  
  
"And how will we know which ones to trust?" Ron said, glaring across the Hall at the Slytherin table, "any of them could be spies, for Malfoy or for You-Know-Who or something, no matter how genuine they seem. I'm with Harry, we shouldn't risk the DA just because a hat said all the houses should be friends and be 'united'."  
  
Hermione, instead of coming up with a quick comeback, merely looked thoughtful, and Harry could tell by looking at her that her brain was going a hundred miles an hour, probably trying to come up with solutions to what Ron had said. At length, she spoke.  
  
"I'm going to see if I can find any spells that prevent people from telling others certain things," she said slowly, "that way, even if there are traitors in the DA, they won't be able to do anything about it. And maybe I can find some sort of truth spell as well, so we know who the traitors are, even if they can't do anything about it. Well, they won't be able to do anything for a while, there's bound to be a counter-curse to the spells we use, so it's better to be safe than sorry, catch them before they've done any damage. . ." she trailed off, staring at the enchanted ceiling and clearly thinking hard, and Harry and Ron turned to eachother.  
  
"So Harry, what do you reckon about the new teachers?" said Ron, nodding towards the staff table, "reckon that scarred bloke's alright?" Harry shrugged.  
  
"Who knows? He might be." Ron nodded.  
  
"Well, Dumbledore hired him, so I doubt he's a Death Eater or anything. I doubt he's going to make the same mistake twice. Then again, it was Dumbledore who hired Lockhart. ." Ron trailed off as well, and Harry looked at the two new teachers again. There was definitely something about the one that was presumably the Spell Construction teacher, something familiar, like he had met him before. . . . who was he? Harry wondered.  
  
At length, Harry stopped staring at the new teachers and wondering about who they were and brang himself back to earth, and in doing so found himself smack bang in the middle of a classic Ron and Hermione argument.  
  
"Well, you should have revised more thoroughly for your OWLs Ron," Hermione was saying, "you've only got yourself to blame." Ron frowned.  
  
"But Harry still got in, didn't he? And he only got Exceeds Expectations as well, same as me."  
  
"Yes, well, that's different."  
  
"What are you two talking about?" interrupted Harry, although he reckoned he already knew. Ron turned to him.  
  
"Potions. Just saying that it's not fair that you got in while I didn't, even though we got the same scores. Bang out of order, don't you think?" Harry nodded.  
  
"Yeah, I reckon so. .but maybe we can get McGonagall to get Snape to let you in as well! I mean, if they changed the rules for me, they can change the rules for you as well." Ron laughed.  
  
"Nah, I'm not as important as you, they wouldn't change the rules just for me," he said, and he looked sadly and sympathetically at him. This totally threw Harry, who had expected Ron to give him the look of jealously that he had become all too familiar with when he had something that Ron didn't. Maybe he's finally figured out that being me isn't great, he thought bitterly, and this time it was Harry who was jealous, for not being able to lead a relatively normal life like Ron.  
  
"Still," Ron was now saying, "I can never be an Auror now, unlike you, Harry." The sympathetic look he had looked at Harry at a moment ago was now gone, replaced with one of jealously, and slight bitterness. Harry snorted.  
  
"You've still got a better chance of becoming an Auror than me, it'll be a miracle if I even live long enough to leave Hogwarts." Apparently this was the wrong thing to say, as both Ron and Hermione gave him angry looks, the jealous and bitter look leaving Ron's face immediately.  
  
"Don't say that, Harry!" Hermione said fiercely, and Harry could see sudden tears in her eyes, and Ron nodded.  
  
"Yeah, don't talk like a prat Harry. I mean, you just scared You-Know- Who off of the platform at King's Cross, didn't you? I reckon it's getting less and less likely that he's gonna do you in, it'll end up you going after him in the end," he said, looking at Harry in awe, as if he was going to stand up at any moment and go hunt for Voldemort. Harry snorted.  
  
"Yeah, right. . ." he mumbled, and turned away from Ron and Hermione to stare at the stormy sky above. It'll end up you going after him in the end. He supposed Ron was right, even if he didn't like it; if Voldemort did stop attempting to kill him, through fear of him or because of something else, Harry supposed that he would have to go after Voldemort eventually, after he and Dumbledore had invented and perfected the spell he needed to defeat him with. Harry sighed, feeling a sudden weight on his shoulders as he thought of both the Prophecy and the Line of the Protectors: he had absolutely no intention of telling either of these secrets to Ron or Hermione, or anyone else close to him at that matter; they were in danger enough as it is, being so close to him, and if Voldemort found out that one of them knew the prophecy or about another secret that could perhaps benefit him, their lives would surely be in as much, if not more, danger than his own. No, he would not tell them anything. Dumbledore knew, and he understood what he was going through, and that would have to be enough.  
  
At length, after the students had polished off the last of the desserts, the last crumbs and scraps of food vanished from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean again, and Dumbledore got to his feet, the Hall falling silent immediately as they waited for their Headmaster to speak, a sombre expression on his face. Harry had noticed throughout the feast that the conversation and noise level was much quieter than usual, and that many faces were pale, many students subdued and not eating anything. Harry did not have to wonder why; his thoughts too had been with the murdered students and parents at King's Cross.  
  
"Well, as we are all now comfortable, warm, fed and watered, I request a few minutes of your time and your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," said Dumbledore, suddenly smiling happily down at them all from his position at the centre of the staff table, although Harry thought his smile looked forced. "However, I must speak of one other matter before I do so." Harry swallowed, knowing what Dumbledore was going to talk about, as the smile disappeared from his face again, to be replaced by the sombre expression he had worn previously. From the looks of the other students, they all seemed to know what he was going to say as well. Harry hoped that he would not say anything about Voldemort himself being on the platform; that would really make people panic.  
  
"As you all know, the Hogwarts Express and platform nine and three- quarters were both attacked today, as you all prepared to journey here at eleven o'clock this morning, and I must inform you all that this attack was indeed the work of Lord Voldemort and his servants, more formerly known as Death Eaters." There was a sudden outbreak of gasps and frightened shrieks across the Great Hall, and Harry remembered the same type of reaction two years ago, when Dumbledore had announced that Cedric Diggory had been murdered by Voldemort. This time however, there was not one look of disbelief directed at Dumbledore, only looks of horror and fear.  
  
"Twenty eight people were murdered by Lord Voldemort and the Death Eaters at platform nine and three-quarters today. Seventeen were students here at Hogwarts, and the remaining eleven were proud parents, there to see their children off to school for another year. Their murders are a tragedy to us all, even to those of us who did not personally know any of those whose lives were so brutally taken away. None of these people had done anything whatsoever to deserve their death, and all will be remembered in great honour, memory and reverence, by those of us who sit in this Hall today, and by those in the greater wizarding community who oppose Lord Voldemort, his followers, and everything that they stands for."  
  
Dumbledore had now picked up his glass, and was holding it above his head to the enchanted ceiling, a strange look on his face as he gazed up at the stormy sky. In a clear voice, he said, "please raise your glasses, and honour those who lost their lives today."  
  
There was a sudden scraping of the benches as every student and teacher in the Great Hall stood, all following Dumbledore's lead and holding their glasses above their heads and to the reflected night sky above them. Harry did not look at the Slytherin table, not knowing if he would be able to control himself if he saw that some of them had not stood to honour those that had been killed.  
  
"Rest in peace," said Dumbledore loudly and clearly, his eyes set on the sky, a far-away look on his face.  
  
"Rest in peace," murmured the rest of the school, their eyes on the sky, and everyone sat back down, as Dumbledore did so. The Hall was now in a state of grief, and Harry could hear the sound of girl's sobbing all around him. Looking at Hermione, Harry could see her upper lip trembling, trying to hold in her tears, and, just down from them, Lavender Brown had her head rested on Parvati Patil's shoulder, and there were tears streaming down both of their faces. Ginny was hugging one of her friends, who was crying into her neck. Many of the new first-years were being comforted by older students. Harry wrenched his eyes away from the grief-stricken students and looked up at Dumbledore, who he was suprised to see was looking back at him. Dumbledore nodded at him in understanding, and Harry nodded back quickly and turned his eyes towards the floor. Ron, he noticed, now seemed to be trying to comfort Hermione, but clearly not knowing how to; Harry didn't think that Ron patting her on the top of her head and saying "there there" was going to make her feel any better.  
  
After many of the students had regained their composure (and after Hermione had stopped sobbing uncontrollably into the shoulder of a clearly terrified Ron) Dumbledore stood again, and after apologising for such a terrible start to the year, began to read the start-of-term notices.  
  
"I would like to remind you all, and to inform first-years, that the village of Hogsmeade is out-of-bounds to all students below third-year, as is the Forbidden Forest on the school grounds, hence the name Forbidden, a name which a few of you seem to conveniently forget at times." Harry saw that Dumbledore's eyes twinkled down fondly at him, Ron and Hermione, and he felt slightly better, as he smiled weakly back at Dumbledore.  
  
"The caretaker, Mr Filch, has asked me to remind you all that magic is strictly forbidden in the corridors between lessons, and that a number of things have been added to the list of items that are not allowed inside the castle, including the entire line of products of the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes." The coners of Dumbledore's mouth curled up, and his mouth twitched, before he regained control of himself, and a disapproving Profesor McGonagall stopped frowning at him. Hermione, Harry noted, had a similar disapproving look. Harry and Ron looked at eachother, both unable to stop a smile as they shared a look. Harry was looking forward to telling Fred and George about the newest items to be banned in products; if he knew them, they would see their products being made illegal in Hogwarts as a definite sign that they were now successful. The atmosphere in the Hall among the students seemed to be improving again now at this news, and many students were grinning in spite of themselves, many of them no doubt remembering Fred and George's pranks and toys, and their "escape" from Umbridge last year.  
  
"Mr Filch has also requested," Dumbledore was now saying, "that I inform you that anyone caught in possession of any product of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes will serve at least a month's worth of dententions, and that you will never be able to look at neither your own hands or the school lavatories the same way again." There was a collective grimace and wincing across the Hall at these words, and Dumbledore nodded commiserately down at them.  
  
"I know, I know, nasty business altogether. But don't say you haven't been warned. Moving on, we have two new teachers with us this year. For Defence Against the Dark Arts, it is my pleasure to anonunce that the vacancy for the job will be filled by Professor Vanya," Dumbledore said, gesturing to the man to his right, who stood up quickly and bowed to the students, and sat back down. There was lukewarm applause as he took his seat again, and a few gasps sounded across the Hall, as those who had not yet seen the gruesome scar on his face did so. Harry wondered how he had got it. . .  
  
"And as for our second new appointment," Dumbledore was now saying, "I am pleased to announce that Professor Thorlaug will be joining us to teach the wonderful subject of Spell Construction, which is returning to Hogwarts after a twenty-three years and eight months absence." The man that Harry had thought to look familiar, with long red hair and piercing blue eyes, stood, but did not bow to the students like the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor had done. There was again a lukewarm, hesitant applause, many of the students looking quite scared of the new Professor, and he sat back down. Dumbledore continued.  
  
"Now, as usual, Quidditch tryouts will be held. . ."  
  
Harry started. Quidditch! He had completely forgotten about Quidditch, and if he was going to be allowed to play it now. Did his lifelong ban still count, now that Umbridge had been sacked? He wondered. Where was his Firebolt now? The last he had heard of it, it had been in the dungeons, guarded by a security troll. . .he turned to Ron to talk to him about it, who for some reason was now grinning widely, a stupid smile on his face. Harry opened his mouth to ask him what he was so happy about, when Dumbledore suddenly spoke up, in a loud and joyful voice.  
  
"And now, before you all run off to your nice warm beds," said Dumbledore, and at these words there was a long, deep groaning throughout the Hall, and Dumbledore chuckled. "As I was saying, before you all run off to bed, let us all sing the school song!"  
  
Dumbledore flicked his wand silghtly, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, flew high above the house tables, and twisted itself into words, the first line of the Hogwarts school song appearing. Harry wondered why Dumbledore was making them sing the school song this year; to his recollection, he had not sung it since first-year.  
  
"Everybody pick their favourite tune," said Dumbledore, looking younger than Harry had seen him in a while, "and off we go!"  
  
'Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,  
Teach us something please,  
Whether we be old and bald,  
Or young with scabby knees,  
Our heads could do with filling,  
With some interesting stuff,  
For now they're bare and full of air,  
Dead flies and bits of fluff,  
So teach us things worth knowing,  
Bring back what we've forgot,  
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,  
And learn until our brains are all rot.  
  
As in Harry's first year, everyone finished the song at different times, but this time, there was no Fred and George singing to a slow funeral march after everyone else had finished. As Harry clapped along with the others as the last singers finished, he wondered for the first time how different Hogwarts would be now that Fred and George were gone. He realised just how funny the two of them had made Hogwarts for him, with their new inventions, their jokes, and their pranks. And how they had been part of the Gryffindor Quidditch team all the time he had been on it, and that they had been part of the team with him that had won the Quidditch Cup back in his third year, and how it had been them who had given him the Marauder's Map. . . . Hogwarts would definitely feel different without them, Harry thought.  
  
"Wonderful," Dumbledore was now saying, "a truly excellent way to enter the new school year. And now, off to those warm, comfortable beds of yours!" There was another appreciative laugh around the Hall, the atmosphere of gloom seemingly having disappeared, and there was a sudden scraping of the tables on the stone floor as everyone hurried to carry out Dumbledore's instructions, of going straight up to their nice warm beds.  
  
Harry, however, had other plans. He had a meeting to go to, and he had promised Hermione that he would go to the hospital wing to sort out his split knuckles, only temporarily healed after he had hit Malfoy. That memory brought a smile to his face, and he quickly looked around the Hall for Malfoy, remembering Ron's words that he would look like a right twat now, with one of his front teeth missing.  
  
Unfortunately, Malfoy was nowhere to be seen in the thick crowd moving slowly towards the Entrance Hall, and Harry reckoned he'd be trying to keep a low profile anyway. Ah well, Harry thought, he can't keep that much of a low profile when he's got classes to go to, he thought with a smirk.  
  
"Budge it, Harry," said Ron's voice from his side, "you're holding up the whole table." Harry shook himself, and started moving slowly towards the doors of the Great Hall. When he, Ron and Hermione had reached the Entrance Hall, he took the two of them aside and explained to them that he had a meeting with Dumbledore. Ron looked puzzled.  
  
"What's this meeting about, then?" he asked, and Harry shrugged.  
  
"No idea, he hasn't told me," he lied, and Ron nodded.  
  
"Fair enough, hope it dosen't take long. Want me to wait up for you?" he asked, and Harry shook his head.  
  
"Nah, it's alright, go to bed if you're tired." But Ron waved an impatient hand.  
  
"It's fine, I'm going to enjoy the fact that I don't have to take the first-years up this year."  
  
"Why not?" Harry questioned, and Ron grinned.  
  
"That jobs reserved for the fifth-year prefects."  
  
"Don't you two stay up too long!" Hermione scolded, "we've got lessons first thing in the morning, and it's the start of our NEWT courses, you don't want to be tired." Ron laughed.  
  
"Oh no, that would simply be terrible."  
  
"Well, some of us actually care about our futures, Ron," said Hermione, and Ron made an indignant noise.  
  
"So because I want to wait up for my best friend, I don't care about my future?"  
  
"No, all I'm saying is. . ."  
  
"Er, guys, I've, er, got to go," Harry said, and Ron and Hermione dropped their argument and walked with Harry up the marble steps in the Entrance Hall, taking separate directions when they reached the top. As Harry walked alone along the corridor leading away from Gryffindor Tower, he heard Ron and Hermione start another argument, their voices echoing in the stone corridors. Some things never change, he thought with a smile.  
  
He walked the now-familiar route through Hogwarts to Dumbledore's office, arriving in front of the ugly stone gargoyle in less than five minutes.  
  
"Pumpkin Juice!" he said clearly, and the gargoyle hopped aside as the wall behind it split in two, and Harry jumped on to the spiral staircase, moving slowly upwards to Dumbledore's tower office. When he reached the top he jumped off immediately and knocked the large griffon-shaped brass knocker. There was no answer from inside, and, after waiting for a minute, Harry opened the door hesitantly, revealing Dumbledore's office, but no Dumbledore. Probably still down at the feast, Harry thought, and he leant against a table to wait for him.  
  
Looking around the office, he felt a twinge of guilt as he remembered completely trashing it at the end of last year. Seems to have made a full recovery he noted, looking down at the spindle-legged table he was leaning against, complete with the small, delicate silver instrument he remembered hurling against the wall last year, along with the table itself. He noticed that Fawkes was not on his perch in the office, and he wondered where he was. Looking around the walls, he saw that all the portraits of former Headmasters were asleep, some breathing lightly, some snoring so loudly Harry was suprised that he had not heard them before now. However, one of the occupants was awake in his portrait, and was eyeing Harry from the opposite wall, one hand stroking his pointed beard as he stared at him.  
  
"Well well well, it's you again," Phineas Nigellus drawled, looking lazily at Harry, "the tragic hero. How are you, then?" Harry narrowed his eyes at him.  
  
"How am I?" Harry questioned, looking suspiciously at Phineas Nigellus as he moved towards his portrait, "what do you care how I am?"  
  
"On the contrary," Phineas Nigellus exclaimed, "I care rather a lot about how you are. Indeed, after what I learned in this office at the end of last year, I think everyone should care about how you are."  
  
At the mention of the prophecy, Harry felt suddenly overwhelmed with anger and pressure, and turned abruptly away from Phineas Nigellus's portrait, ignoring his cries of how much of a juvenile delinquent Harry was, and how he had no respect for those "who were superior to him in every way." He leant against Dumbledore's desk, trying to calm himself down and to block the prophecy from his mind, remembering from his Occlumency lessons to clear his mind.  
  
After he had regained his composure, something that Phineas Nigellus had said made him think of something, and he turned back to his portrait.  
  
"So, all you portraits know about the, uh, about the. . . .prophecy, now then?" he said shakily. Phineas Nigellus opened his mouth to say something, but then seemed to change his mind about saying it, and merely nodded somberly, actually looking serious for once. Harry swallowed.  
  
"And can any of you tell anyone else, like other portraits or other people, about it?" Harry asked, and Phineas Nigellus shook his head.  
  
"No, we cannot," he said, "we are bound by more than just honour to serving the present Headmaster of Hogwarts, and thus are unable to go against anything he has specifically told us not to do. Makes life quite boring, actually. ." he drawled, regaining his sneering attitude, his serious expression fading quickly away. Harry nodded at him, and turned away.  
  
Looking around again, something caught his eye on Dumbledore's desk, and he turned his head fully to look at it; the Sorting Hat. Harry wondered how, if Dumbledore was not even here yet, it had got here so quick, but he couldn't be bothered to really think about it. Instead, a new thought suddenly came to him. The Sorting Hat's song this year had been very cryptic and dark, and Harry wanted more of an explanation to it. And, he thought, what better way to get an explanation than to talk to the one who had come up with the song? He looked around the office anxiously.  
  
Dumbledore won't be back for ages he assured himself, looking quickly around the office again anyway, but there was no one there; Phineas Nigellus seemed to have left his portrait, and the rest of the portraits were still asleep. Hesitantly, Harry picked up the Sorting Hat and set it lightly on his head, noticing that it was no longer too big for him, and indeed was quite small on him now. He braced himself, waiting for the sly, intelligent voice to start speaking in his ear.  
  
It never came. He waited over a minute, but there was no voice at all. Harry was puzzled. Why won't it talk to me? He wondered, taking off the Hat and inspecting it, seeing if it was broken or something. Setting it back on his head, he waited again for the voice, but again, there was nothing.  
  
Harry took the Hat off and placed it back on the desk, annoyed. The one chance he got to talk to the Sorting Hat, to ask it about the meaning of it's song, and it wouldn't talk to him. Typical.  
  
"Ah, Harry, nice and early, aren't you?"  
  
Harry jumped and whirled round, startled by the voice.  
  
"I thought you'd already be here, sir," Harry said to the smiling Albus Dumbledore, who had just entered the office and was now walking towards Harry and his desk, which Harry was still next to. Harry noticed he was carrying a copy of the Evening Prophet under his arm.  
  
"Oh, I apologise, I had to have a talk with our new Spell Construction teacher," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye, "he should be along any minute now." Harry was puzzled.  
  
"I thought this meeting was just about you telling me if you were going to let me start working on this spell straight away?" Harry said, and Dumbledore sighed.  
  
"That will be one of the issues discussed, yes," he said, "but only when the others have all left."  
  
"Others?" repeated Harry, "how many more are coming?"  
  
His question was answered when the office door suddenly opened, and several people came in. In the lead was Professor Thorlaug, the new Spell Construction teacher, who was followed by a few people Harry did not recognise (who all stared at his scar, Harry noticed irritably) and, behind them, at the back of the line, walked a scowling-as-usual Snape. Snape, when he noticed Harry, glared hatefully at him. Back to normal then, thought Harry dryly.  
  
Dumbledore was now conjuring chairs for the (Harry counted, including himself) six of them around his desk, and he expanded the desk itself slightly to allow them all to sit comfortably in front of his desk. Harry took a seat next to Professor Thorlaug and a witch with long red hair, who smiled at him. Harry smiled uncertainly back.  
  
"Well!" said Dumbledore, dropping the Evening Prophet on his desk, placing the Sorting Hat on it's shelf, and sitting down in the high-backed chair behind his desk, "isn't this a nice gathering! It's such a shame that it's for such a serious meeting, otherwise we could have had a very pleasant time." Harry smiled uncertainly at Dumbledore, not sure whether he should be smiling or not at what Dumbledore had said, whose pleasant face had now changed into one of utmost seriousness.  
  
"Now, to business. Firstly, I would like to introduce those of you are unfamiliar with him to Harry Potter." Dumbledore gestured with his hand to Harry and smiled at him, who was now feeling slightly uncomfortable. The witches and wizards Harry did not know turned to look at him, although it seemed to Harry that they had never looked away in the first place.  
  
"Harry, this is Fiona Trout," said Dumbledore, gesturing to a plump, round faced pleasant-looking woman sitting a few seats away, who reminded Harry slightly of Mrs Weasley, but more formidable. She smiled at him, and Harry smiled back.  
  
"This is Lillian Birch," he continued, gesturing to the young, pretty red-haired woman with warm blue eyes sitting next to him, who also smiled at him. He smiled weakly back.  
  
"And this is Roderick Bodmin," he said finally, gesturing to a tall man with a shaven head and a small scar on his forehead, who leaned over the red-haired witch called Lillian Birch to shake Harry's hand with a smile. Harry noticed that Dumbledore seemed to be under the impression that he had introduced Harry to everyone now, but Harry realised that he had not yet introduced him to the viking-like Spell Construction teacher, who was looking intensely at Dumbledore with a serious expression.  
  
"And now," Dumbledore was now saying, "I feel it is important for you to know, Harry, and for the rest of you to be reminded, that every witch and wizard in this room is a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and that anything discussed in this room will not leave this room. Agreed?" There was a general murmur of agreement, and Harry glanced at Professor Thorlaug, the new Spell Construction teacher, glad that there would now be another member of the Order at Hogwarts, remembering last year when McGonagall had been in St Mungos and he had forgotten that Snape was a member of the Order.  
  
Dumbledore noticed Harry's gaze directed at Professor Thorlaug, and suddenly tapped his hand lightly on his forehead.  
  
"Oh, that's right, I forgot about that," Dumbledore said, with a twinkle in his eye. "Professor, would you please reveal yourself?" Professor Thorlaug stood up, pointed his wand at himself, and muttered, "Finite Incantatem."  
  
The man's face slowly changed, the bushy beard and moustache fading away, and the red hair shortening up to his shoulders, which turned blonde, wavy and dirty-looking. His piercing blue eyes stayed the same, and Harry realized that it was his eyes that had made him look so familiar to him.  
  
"Nate!" Harry cried, glad to see his Duelling Techniques teacher again, "you're the Spell Construction teacher? How come you're in disguise?"  
  
"Nice to see you as well, Harry," said Nate Gonzales, smiling at Harry from the chair next to him, and shaking his hand. It was Dumbledore who answered Harry's question.  
  
"Nate is a Hitwizard, Harry," said Dumbledore simply, "he is wanted by the Ministry. Do you think that it would be safe for him to teach here under his true identity? He'd be arrested before he even began teaching."  
  
Harry nodded, remembering now. He and Nate had had several conversations during the summer about his job as a self-employed Hitwizard. Nate had explained that he only took on jobs that he was completely sure were for people who deserved what they were getting, at least in his opinion anyway. Harry had accepted this, but he doubted he would ever agree with what Nate did at all. In his opinion, almost everyone deserved to live, except for a select few of course, such as Voldemort, and Lucius Malfoy, and Bellatrix Lestragne. . .Harry fought down the sudden surge of hatred and anger, remembering about clearing his mind, forced a smile at Nate, and turned back to Dumbledore, who was speaking again.  
  
"So, now we are all accquainted with eachother, let us begin our meeting. Firstly, the matter of Professor Vanya, our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, needs to be adressed. For those of you who are unaware, Mahan Vanya is an Auror, working for the Ministry of Magic."  
  
Harry groaned inwardly. Another Ministry spy, he thought, it's Umbridge all over again.  
  
"His position here is a compromise between myself, the Ministry and the Wizengamot," Dumbledore was now saying. "He has no authority whatsoever over anything in Hogwarts other than the students in his classes, and he cannot interfere with other teacher's in any way. However, he can report anything he believes is not acceptable to the Ministry, and thus to Fudge. Essentially, he is only here to ensure that Hogwarts is behaving, according to the Ministry's standards." Dumbledore looked like he was thinking the same thing as Harry: what standards?  
  
"What kind of a person is he?" Nate said, "is he a Fudge supporter? Is he going to report false information so Fudge can get involved?" Dumbledore shook his head.  
  
"No, I do not think so. In fact, he does not seem to agree with Fudge in any aspect at all." Harry was puzzled, and by the looks of the few of the others, he was not the only one.  
  
"But why would Fudge would trust such an important position as this to him then?" said Snape, "surely Hogwarts is one of his top priorities at the moment?"  
  
"Maybe he is one of Fudge's most loyal supporters, and this apparent disagreement is just an act, so that we all think he is harmless," said Nate, but Dumbledore shook his head.  
  
"No, I have it from Kingsley Shacklebolt, who has known him as a fellow Auror for many years, that he is most definitely not a Fudge supporter. And it was not Fudge who appointed him for the position as the Ministry representative at Hogwarts, it was the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.  
  
"Allow me to make something clear. Minister Fudge and Amelia Bones, head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, have practically been at war against eachother since the Ministry's announcement in June that Lord Voldemort has returned. Madam Bones is attacking Fudge for the time it took him to announce Voldemort's return, and is now, following an intense period of arguments, debates and compromises, running the Department of Magical Law Enforcement outside of Ministry control, and is now accountable primarily to the Wizengamot, and thus primarily accountable to me, as head of the Wizengamot. However, the Ministry does still hold a certain power over the Department, because of a oath that every employee of the Ministry of Magic has to swear to, so although it has no authority over the Magical Law Enforcement Department as a whole, the Ministry of Magic itself can give orders and instructions to members of the Department, such as Aurors, provided of course that it does not clash in any way with their orders from the Department itself, and thus Professor Vanya has no choice but to report anything suspicious to the Ministry, as Fudge has given him an order to do. However, I do not believe he will be reporting much at all."  
  
"Do you think there's a chance of recruiting him for the Order?" said the young red-haired witch named Lillian Birch, "he's an Auror, isn't he? We need more Order members in the Auror ranks." But Dumbledore frowned, and shook his head.  
  
"Yes, I do believe there is a good chance that we could recruit him to the Order, but, for the moment, we will not risk it. It would be a very dangerous thing to attempt, and if he refused us, Fudge would have an excellent reason for taking control of Hogwarts, and we cannot afford for that to happen."  
  
"What about his actual lessons?" said Harry, before he lost his nerve at speaking in front of all these people, who now all turned to him. "Will the Ministry have given him an order to teach the lessons the way Umbridge did, with just theory? Do they still believe that you're trying to build up an army, Sir?" he said, looking at Dumbledore, who was looking at him with an odd expression on his face. He noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that Nate was smiling at him, and wondered why. Dumbledore answered him.  
  
"No Harry, they do not still believe I am trying to organize an overthrowing of the Ministry, that rumor has been successfully proved to be false. And no, to the best of my knowledge the Ministry has given Professor Vanya no instructions whatsoever on the content or teaching conduct of his lessons, and from what I have seen of his lesson plans, his lessons seem more than appropriate for the current situation."  
  
Harry breathed a sigh of relief, glad that the students would have more than just the DA to teach them how to defend themselves, which could only do so much.  
  
"And what about the chance of him being an actual Death Eater?" said Roderick Bodmin, the tall man with the shaven head, "we can't forget who the real enemy is. This fighting amongst ourselves is ridiculous when we have a common foe to fight." There was a murmur of agreement throughout the room, Harry included, and Dumbledore spoke.  
  
"I agree, this is ridiculous, and indeed nothing shows Lord Voldemort's power more than the disunity he creates within those fighting against him. However, we need the Ministry, the Order of the Phoenix cannot fight this war alone. And with regards to concerns about whether Professor Vanya is a Death Eater, Severus," (Dumbledore gestured to Snape, who scowled) "as a member of lord Voldemort's circle, has his ways of discovering many of the new recruits to the Death Eaters, and the name of Professor Vanya has never been mentioned. There is a very slim chance that Mahan Vanya is a Death Eater. Still, I will be using Veritaserum on him, even if he is not a Death Eater or a supporter of Fudge, to find out exactly where his loyalties lie. I will obliviate him afterwards of course, and he will be none the wiser, but Hogwarts will be much safer. I will tell each of you the results of my testing in a week's time, as well as the rest of the Order."  
  
Everyone nodded in agreement with this, and Harry in particular was pleased that Dumbledore was doing this, having had enough bad experiences with Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers in the past.  
  
"Now then, the next item. Ah yes, this one concerns you, Harry."  
  
Harry perked up at this, and watched Dumbledore as he stood up and strode quickly over to a bookcase next to his fireplace, where he took a large, leather bound book off of the top shelf. He brang it back to the desk and set it down on it, and, opening it slowly, plunged his hand inside the book, his arm disappearing up to his shoulder. Harry thought down the instinctive cry of alarm, and shook his head. Even after five years in the wizarding world, some magical things still suprised him.  
  
Dumbledore appeared to be rummaging around inside the book now, and, after a minute or two, he emerged triumphantly with a small blue box. He turned back to Harry and the others. Harry noticed that Snape was glaring at him again, and seemed to be fighting the urge to say something. Harry glared back at him, but his concentration was broken when Dumbledore fixed them both with a frown, and when he had Harry's attention, he passed him the small box, who took it uncertainly, looking questionly at Dumbledore, who smiled at him, seeming to know the question that Harry was thinking.  
  
"In this box," said Dumbledore, "is a means for you to communicate with members of the Order of the Phoenix, and for members of the Order to contact you. I daresay it will come in useful in the future," he said grimly, and Harry nodded in agreement. Dumbledore gestured to the box, and said, "open it."  
  
Harry placed the box delicately on the table in front of him and unfastened the catch holding it shut. Opening the lid fully, Harry found a small, delicate silver ring inside. He took it out to inspect it, and was amazed at the weight of it. Although it had looked like a delicate and light ring, it was deceptively heavy in his palm, and seemed to be emitting a slight buzzing noise.  
  
"Every member of the Order of the Phoenix bears one of these rings, and by wearing one, you have the ability to communicate with any member of the Order you so wish. To communicate with a member of the Order, simply raise the ring to your mouth and say the incantation Narro followed by the name of the person with whom you wish to speak with. You will then hear the person who you wish to communicate with's voice in your ear, and from then on you can simply speak out loud at any volume, and they will hear you clearly. For example, to speak to Remus, you would say Narro, followed by Remus Lupin. Narro Remus Lupin. If you wish to communicate with more than just one Order member, simply say the incantation Narro followed by Multiplus, for example Narro Multiplus, Remus Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt. When someone is attempting to contact you through your ring, you will feel the ring grow warm on your finger, and it will turn light blue. To answer, simply tap the ring with your finger. To not answer the call for whatever reason, simply tap it two times in quick succession.  
  
"I must also warn you that you will not always get an answer when attempting to communicate with Order members, as they will not always be in the best position to answer. Do you understand all this, Harry?"  
  
Harry noticed Snape sneering at him, looking as if he doubted that he understood anything at all, and Harry resisted the urge to glare at him, instead nodding professionally at Dumbledore, who smiled at him. He gestured to the ring.  
  
"Put it on, Harry," he said, and Harry hesitantly slipped it on to the finger of his right hand that was closest to his thumb. He was suprised at how well it fitted him. He could have sworn it was smaller than that when he was holding it, but ah well. Harry inspected it on his finger, thinking that it looked kind of nice, noticing that the buzzing noise that the ring had been emitting a minute ago had now stopped. When he looked up again from inspecting the ring, he saw that Dumbledore had drawn his wand.  
  
"Harry, I am going to put a powerful Invisibility Spell on the ring, to ensure that it cannot be seen by anyone else besides yourself. Anyone else seeing it could have very serious effects." Harry didn't bother to ask how anyone seeing a seemingly-harmless silver ring on his finger could have serious effects; he reckoned Dumbledore knew what he was doing.  
  
Dumbledore pointed his wand accurately at the ring on Harry's finger, and muttered, "velius." The ring glowed ice blue for a second, before, at least to Harry's eyes, it returned to it's usual state. Dumbledore, however, did not seem to be able to see it any more.  
  
"Harry, I must tell you that it is essential that you never take this ring off. It will ensure that we can contact you if there is. . .if there is a situation, or in an emergency, and it is also for Order members to contact you, as well as for you to contact them. It is water-proof, and you can wear it in the shower, and is impossible to be broken or damaged in any way. Do you understand?" Harry nodded, and Dumbledore smiled at him, before addressing everyone together.  
  
"Now then," he said Dumbledore briskly, "on to the next item, which concerns you, Harry, you, Severus, and Lillian, Roderick and Fiona." Harry turned in his chair to look at the four of them, wondering what could involve all four of them together, especially him and Snape; he had had enough of him over the summer.  
  
"Lillian, Roderick and Fiona are going to be in control of monitoring Hogwarts," said Dumbledore, answering Harry's unspoken question, "they will be spending the majority of their time under Invisibility Cloaks, monitoring the boundaries of Hogwarts, such as the Forbidden Forest, strengthening the school's defences, and ensuring that nothing suspicious is happening on the school grounds, for example if there any spies in the school, be they people or creatures. Severus, your role is to ensure that they are equipped with any magical items, potions, and anything else they need in order to do their job. You will be meeting with them on every friday night, to see what they need for the following week. Harry, firstly, as a student, you are in a prime position to hear plenty of things that us Professors would never find out about, and I want you to list down all the rumors, gossip and chinese whispers that you hear, no matter how trivial it may sound, and report it to these three. Secondly, there is something else that you four will be working on together, which I believe Hagrid will be telling Harry about tomorrow. I assume that Hagrid has told you he wishes to speak with you tommorow, Harry?" said Dumbledore, and Harry nodded. "Good. And thirdly, Harry, I want you to keep a close look-out for anyone you suspect of being a spy for Lord Voldemort."  
  
"Draco Malfoy," said Harry immediately, turning to the three of them, "he's Lucius Malfoy's son, he's definitely a spy, you've got to look out for him." The man, Roderick Bodmin, nodded.  
  
"We already know about him, and believe me, we will be keeping a very close eye on him, one slip and he'll be out. Are there any others that spring to mind as possible spies?" he asked politely, his eyes flicking to Harry's scar every so often. Harry thought about it.  
  
"Hmmm. . .well, I suppose Crabbe and Goyle are too, I mean their fathers are Death Eaters, it makes sense that they'd be spies, but they're a bit too thick to be really dangerous. Anyone else? Hmmm. . .not any that I can think of off the top of my head. . . I'll probably think of some more tomorrow. Want me to do you a list?" said Harry, and the witch named Fiona nodded.  
  
"Yes please, that would be excellent."  
  
"Harry," said Dumbledore, "whenever you have concerns over the coming year of potential spies in Hogwarts, or if you have any concerns, or indeed suggestions, about the strength of Hogwart's defences, Lillian, Roderick and Fiona will be who you need to talk to. Simply contact them when you have a concern or suggestion, and the four of you can arrange a meeting to discuss it."  
  
Harry nodded, and then, plucking up his courage, said, "actually, I already have a suggestion." Lillian, Fiona and Roderick leaned forwards in their seats to peer more closely at him. Lillian prompted him to carry on with a smile, and Harry, heartened, did so.  
  
"Well, what we need is our own spy, in Slytherin," he said, and he saw Snape's face twist into a even more hateful expression, as he glared at Harry. Ignoring him, he continued, "if we can get a spy in Slytherin, where, lets face it, the majority of future Death Eaters are going to come from," (Snape looked like he was itching for a chance to pull his wand on Harry now) "we'll have access to the rumors and things that go on in Slytherin house. I mean, I'm sure there are things that happen in that house that they don't share with the rest of the school, and if we can get a spy in, we'll have hit a goldmine. I bet we could easily figure out who is a Death Eater in Slytherin if we did that. If you want, I could try and find one."  
  
The three of them nodded in agreement, looking impressed, and Dumbledore and Nate smiled at Harry, who felt quite uncomfortable now, with everyone looking at him like he'd just come up with a way to end the war. Well, not everyone. Snape was glaring at Harry, the loathing on his face startling Harry as it still did at times, and he could see Snape's hand hovering near his robe pocket, no doubt longing to pull out his wand and curse Harry into oblivion. Can always count on Snape to bring me back to earth, he thought stupidly.  
  
"Harry," said Nate, "if you're going to try and get a spy in Slytherin, be very careful on who you use, it's going to be extremely hard to find a Slytherin who is brave enough to do this."  
  
"Brave?" repeated Harry, puzzled. "Why would they need to be brave?"  
  
"Because, Potter," interrupted Snape with a sneer, "if they were found out to be a spy, their life may be in danger, as may their family's lives." Harry nodded, feeling a bit of an idiot for not thinking of that before, and Snape's sneer grew even more pronounced.  
  
"Do you know of anyone who would perhaps be willing to be a spy for us in Slytherin?" asked Nate politely to Snape, who turned his head slowly to look at him, "you're their head of house, aren't you?"  
  
Snape gave a small nod, and said, "the majority of the Slytherins are dominated by the house politics of Slytherin House, and are not stupid enough to actively show any disagreement with the general opinions of the rest of the house, so it will be hard to find someone both stupid enough to do it, and someone intelligent enough to pull it off."  
  
"Severus," said Dumbledore, "if you do have any suggestions about who would make a good spy in Slytherin, please inform Harry here," (Dumbledore gestured to Harry, and Snape glared at him), "and he will inform Lillian, Fiona and Roderick."  
  
Snape looked like someone had just given him a bowl of Stinksap to drink, as he looked through his thick, dirty curtains of hair at Harry. After glaring at him for a while, in which Harry glared right back, he said icily, "if I have any suggestions, I will contact Birch, Trout and Bodmin myself. I will not go through Potter, a mere child, in any circumstances," he said, sneering. Nate glared at Snape, suprising Harry, and opened his mouth to say something, as did Harry himself, prepared to tell Snape how much of a greasy git he was, but he was cut off by Dumbledore.  
  
"That's enough Severus," said Dumbledore sharply, "you may leave now, as may Nate, Lillian, Fiona and Roderick," he said, adressing the other three, "I thank you for your presence here this evening. Remember, we have a meeting tomorrow morning at seven o'clock sharp to discuss today's attack of platform nine and three-quarters. I have notified the others."  
  
Lillian, Roderick, Fiona and Nate nodded as they stood, and, after shaking Harry's hand again, left the office, Nate concealing himself again as Professor Thorlaug. Snape had already stormed out and slammed the door behind him. It was now only Dumbledore and Harry left in the office.  
  
"Now then Harry," said Dumbledore, "I believe that we have a few things to discuss." Harry nodded, and spoke up.  
  
"So, can we start the Spell Construction for the spell against Voldemort now?" he said immediately, prepared almost fully for Dumbledore to refuse. Dumbledore sighed wearily.  
  
"Yes, Harry we can. But," he added quickly, stopping Harry from thanking him straight away, "I must impress upon you the fact that it is doubtful we will achieve much to begin with. You have no experience with Spell Construction whatsoever, and so will be overcome by the complications of it."  
  
"No, I won't," insisted Harry, relieved beyond belief that Dumbledore was allowing him to start now, "I'll look up books on the subject, I'll see if Nate can give me extra lessons, I'll do anything I can. There is no way I am waiting another year to begin this. I mean, can you imagine how many more people will die, while I'm sitting here not doing anything about it? I can't deal with that." Dumbledore sighed again.  
  
"Very well then, Harry. We will have our first lesson on wednesday night, three days from now, and we will see how it goes then. You have until then to prepare for our lesson, and I advise you do some intensive reading and research on this subject, and by all means enlist Mr Gonzales' help if you wish. But, remember, under no circumstances must you tell him why you are so interested in Spell Construction. Understand?"  
  
Harry nodded, insulted slightly that Dumbledore felt the need to say that to him, and Dumbledore stood. "Well Harry, I think it's time you were off into your nice warm bed," he said smiling, and Harry stood. Dumbledore shook his hand for some reason, puzzling Harry, as he never usually did that, and said, "goodnight, Harry."  
  
"Goodnight, Sir," said Harry, and made his way towards Dumbledore's office door, when a sudden thought from earlier came to the front of his mind. He turned back to Dumbledore, who was vanishing the small blue box that had contained Harry's ring.  
  
"Um, Sir?" said Harry, and Dumbledore looked up, frowning.  
  
"Yes, Harry?" he said, looking anxiously at him. Harry suddenly felt nervous for what he was about to say, but took a deep breath and said it anyway.  
  
"Um, well, when I was waiting for you to get back from the feast, I uh, tried on the Sorting Hat," he said, feeling embarassed, "but it wouldn't talk to me. I just wondered if you knew why it wouldn't talk to me."  
  
Dumbledore smiled, then frowned, and sat back in his chair, stroking his beard thoughtfully. He seemed to be pondering his answer, and it was a good few minutes before he answered.  
  
"I believe that it is because of your Occlumency training," he said finally, and Harry was suprised to find out it was something to do with him; he had just thought the Hat didn't want to talk to him, or something. But it made sense, he supposed.  
  
"The Sorting Hat does Legilimency," said Harry slowly, "it reads the student's minds, it looks in their minds to see what they're thinking and what kind of a person they are, so it knows where to put them." Dumbledore nodded.  
  
"Exactly, Harry. And you have spent an entire summer perfecting the ability to block people from reading your mind, and I am sure you know the risks of opening a perfected Occlumen's mind to Legilimency?" Harry nodded, remembering suffering a half an hour lecture by Snape about the risks of it. Dumbledore continued. "You can see then, Harry, why the Sorting Hat did not talk to you; it is because you are not letting it speak to you, your mind is blocked from invasion, and thus it cannot see your thoughts and talk to you. It was silent because it can't speak to you, not because it dosen't want to."  
  
Harry nodded, glad he'd gotten that cleared up, and strangely glad that it wasn't because the Sorting Hat didn't want to talk to him, like it didn't like him or something.  
  
"Also sir, there was one more thing."  
  
"Yes, Harry?"  
  
"Um, are you done with reading the Evening Prophet? I don't get that delivered." Dumbledore seemed suprised at Harry's question, probably at how trivial it was, and smiled.  
  
"Certainly Harry," he said, taking the newspaper off of his desk and handing it to him with a smile, "here you go. And Harry?"  
  
"Yes Sir?"  
  
"Remember that what happened today was not your fault."  
  
Harry sighed, thanked Dumbledore, said goodnight again and left his office.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
As he walked along the corridors after leaving Dumbledore's office, Harry reflected on the "meeting" he had just had, with Dumbledore, Snape, Nate, Fiona, Roderick and Lillian. He was amazed that Dumbledore had allowed him to be so involved in the meeting, to even allow him to be there at all, a very sudden change from last year, when he had been kept well away from any business of the Order of the Phoenix. But then, at that meeting, Dumbledore and the others, except Snape of course, were almost treating him like he was a member himself. They had even listened to his suggestions! It didn't make sense to Harry, and he shook his head to stop thinking about it.  
  
He stopped off at the hospital wing on the way back to the Gryffindor common room to get his split knuckles healed, ignoring Madam Pomfrey's tutting and disapproving comments ("Muggle duelling on the Hogwarts Express, I ask you!"), and reached Gryffindor house a few minutes later. As he approached the guardian portrait of Gryffindor, the Fat Lady, he realised that he didn't know the password.  
  
"Shit," he muttered under his breath, and said to the Fat Lady, "um, let me in?" She gave him a lofty, superior look.  
  
"Password?" she said, and Harry groaned.  
  
"I haven't been told it yet, I've been at a meeting with Professor Dumbledore."  
  
"Password?"  
  
"Oh come on," Harry wheedled, "you know who I am, it's the first day of school, can't you just let me in this one time?"  
  
"Young man, I am under strict orders from Hogwarts itself!" the Fat Lady cried, looking outraged, "I could not possibly do that!" Harry sighed.  
  
"Fine," he said, and rapped hard on the portrait, hoping someone would hear him. There was nothing for a few minutes, so Harry rapped hard again, and this time the portrait swung open, revealing Ginny Weasley. She smiled when she saw Harry on the other side.  
  
"Oh, Harry, it's you! Where've you been, then?" she asked curiously.  
  
"Oh," he said, trying to sound casual, "just had a meeting with Dumbledore. Nothing special." She nodded, giving him a strange look, and retreated to a small cluster of armchairs, where she was sitting alone with Dean Thomas, Harry noted, remembering what she had said on the train home last year. Looking round, Harry saw Ron and Hermione standing by the fireplace; they seemed to be having another argument, and Harry sighed and walked towards them, determined to get them to stop arguing about whatever stupid thing they were arguing about now, so that he could tell them some of the things he had found out in the meeting.  
  
It turned out they were arguing about Ginny, who was now apparently going out with Dean, and that it was a very big argument, and try as he might, Harry could not get a word in edgeways.  
  
"Uh, Ron. . ." he began, but. . .  
  
"It's disgusting!" said Ron, his face scrunched up, "she's only fourteen, she shouldn't be going out with boys yet, it's not right!"  
  
"Ron, calm down, Hermione, stop . . ."  
  
"Ron, fourteen is a perfectly acceptable age for girls to start becoming interested in boys, I mean, look at me and Viktor, I was fourteen when he took me to the Yule Ball." She flushed pink as she said this, and Harry was amused to see the sudden emotions evident on Ron's face, and how quickly his ears went red, a sure fire sign he was now very angry. He looked ready to explode, suprising Harry, as he didn't think the argument was that intense, but apparently to Ron, it was. Or maybe it was Hermione's mentioning of "Viktor" that had set him off.  
  
"And when did I ever say that was acceptable?" he ground out, gritting his teeth, and clearly holding in a angry outburst. "In fact," he continued, "I've just found a word for that: perverted. Did you know that it was illegal for him to. . .for him to. . .you know, go out with you? He was of age, he can get put in Azkaban for that."  
  
Hermione looked completely stung by Ron's remark, and looked at him with such a hurt look on her face that Ron swallowed guiltily, all the anger leaving his face instantly, and mumbled sorry at her, looking down at his feet. Harry had to agree that Ron had gone way too far, even though he agreed wholeheartedly with what he had said, and had done for a while. Hermione got to her feet and ran up the girl's stairs, and Harry heard her dormitory door slam loudly. Ron collapsed backwards into the armchair he was sitting on, and put his head in his hands.  
  
"Don't worry about it," Harry said to him, trying to be comforting, "she'll come round, she always does." Ron looked up, looking suprised.  
  
"Harry? When did you get here?" Harry laughed.  
  
"About a minute ago. I don't think Hermione saw me, either."  
  
At the mention of Hermione Ron groaned loudly, putting his head back in his hands, and it was obvious to Harry that he was feeling very guilty. He clapped Ron on the shoulder.  
  
"Come on mate, bed," he said firmly, and Ron stood up dazedly. In a way, Harry was glad that the two of them had had an argument, as he couldn't really be bothered to explain to them anymore about everything that they had talked about in the meeting, which they would surely like to know about. Ah well, I'll tell them in the morning, he figured, and led Ron up the boy's stairs to their dormitory. Harry noticed that Dean seemed to have left Ginny now and gone to bed, as Ginny was sitting by herself, looking miffed. Harry saw her glaring at Ron as he walked with him slowly up the stairs.  
  
Halfway up the stairs however, Harry found that Ron at least had not forgotton about his meeting with Dumbledore, as halfway through a mumbled comment about how "Viktor" needed a good kick in the Gobstones, he turned to Harry and asked eagerly what had happened, and what he had found out. But Harry did not tell him.  
  
"I'll tell you and Hermione in the morning, okay? It's not exactly the right time now." Ron just nodded.  
  
When the two of them entered their dormitory, they saw that Dean's curtains were closed. Ron glared at them. Seamus and Neville were walking around Harry's bed, talking to eachother, and Harry went over to them, wondering what they were doing by his bed. Ron dragged his eyes away from Dean's bedcurtains and followed.  
  
"Hey Harry, what's all this?" said Seamus, moving to the side and pointing to the wall to the right of Harry's bed. A large punchbag hung from the ceiling, and there was a non-electric cycling machine on the floor next to it, along with a flat bench that had iron bars and weights on a stand beside it. Harry remembered Thomas Anderson, his Physical Combat teacher from the summer, saying that he had arranged for some weights and exercise machines to be installed in his dormitory in Hogwarts, so he could continue with his exercises when he returned to Hogwarts, but he had completely forgotten about them.  
  
"It's my exercise stuff, I, uh, got it in the summer." Ron's eyes lit up, his guilty expression fading away.  
  
"Brilliant! Can I use it all?" he asked, "you know, toughen myself up?" Harry nodded.  
  
"Sure, course you can. You two can as well," he said to Seamus and Neville, who smiled, "and Dean, if he wants. Only let me teach you some stretches first, otherwise you're going to mess yourselves up, you know, pull muscles and stuff." Seamus shrugged.  
  
"Okay, cheers. Can I have a go right now?" he said excitedly, and Harry shook his head.  
  
"Now? No, I'm going to bed now, I'll teach you the stretches tommorow, if you remind me." Seamus nodded and thanked Harry again, before suddenly becoming sober.  
  
"Listen, Harry. . ." he started, but Harry guessed what he was going to say and held up his hand to stop him.  
  
"Forget it, it's in the past," he said, even though he still felt quite bitter that, at this time last year, Seamus had suddenly started thinking he was an attention-seeking nutcase, when he had known him for five years previously and should have known better. Obviously, Seamus now felt that Harry deserved a real apology, rather than a small mumbled comment in the corridor.  
  
Seamus looked relieved that Harry had forgiven him properly, and called goodnight happily to them all, as did Neville and Ron. No sound came from behind Dean's bedcurtains, and Ron shot one last venomous look at them before wrenching his own shut. Harry called goodnight back to everyone and began to get undressed for bed, pulling off his robes, but stopped when he felt the rolled up copy of the Evening Prophet srunched up in his trouser pocket. After he could clearly hear Ron's, Dean's, Seamus' and Neville's snores resounding loudly around the room, he pulled his school robes back on, and tiptoed back down to the common room. It was almost empty now, the only occupants being a small group of girls in the corner, giggling over something. Probably boys or make up, Harry reckoned.  
  
Harry settled himself in his favourite armchair in front of the fireplace, pulled the Evening Prophet out of his pocket, and looked at the front page, which was decorated with a large picture of the Hogwarts Express at platform nine and three-quarters. It did not seem to be a photo of the actual attack, however, just a normal photo of the Hogwarts Express at the platform. Harry looked at the article below it:  
  
You-Know-Who attacks platform nine and three-quarters,  
Massacre as twenty eight die in attack of Hogwarts Express.  
Article by Antis Goodsbody At eleven o'clock this morning, as the many students of Hogwarts prepared  
to travel to school aboard the Hogwarts Express, approximately twelve followers of  
You-Know-Who, more commonly known as Death Eaters, appeared on platform nine and three-quarters, led by none other than You-Know-Who himself, whose  
appearance on the platform. . .  
  
Harry tried as hard as he could to keep his mind blank as he read the main article (which was four pages long, one and a half of them dedicated solely to praising Harry for jumping off the train to fight Voldemort) about the battle and the accompanying articles, as he knew that if he let did not keep his mind blank, he would lose it in a fit of anger and probably burn the paper to shreds. The main article basically talked about the main events of the battle (some that Harry didn't know about, having been knocked out before the end), the fact that Voldemort himself had appeared on the platform, the body count, and angry comments about the Ministry, who were apparently in charge of protecting Hogwarts students until they got off the Hogwarts Express at Hogsmeade. The accompanying articles were numerous; interviews with witnesses to the battles, small articles on those that had fought against the Death Eaters (including very complimentary articles on Tonks and Kingsley), a statement from Fudge and the Ministry, and various comments from "prominent members of the wizarding community," all crying in outrage at the Ministry's lack of defences in place at platform nine and three-quarters. There was also an article talking about the significance of Harry "causing He Who Must Not Be Named to flee the scene," and praising him even more for his role in the battle. Harry was outraged that there was more stupid information about him than there was about those that had actually suffered and died in the attack, and the names of those that had died were scrunched into a small article at the bottom of page five, which Harry stared at for a long time, even though he already knew the names off by heart.  
  
In what felt like days later, but what was only an hour and fifteen minutes, Harry tore his eyes away from the article naming the murdered victims of the Death Eaters, and looked around the common room. The small group of girls had left now, and Harry was the only one left in the common room. The fire in the large fireplace had nearly gone out entirely.  
  
Harry sighed heavily and got slowly to his feet, picking up the Evening Prophet and chucking it in the bin as he passed it, which thanked him in a squeakly high voice for not littering. He walked dazedly up the stairs and into the dormitory, not bothering to be quiet, and undressed for bed, pulling on his pyjamas and collapsing into his bed, all comforting feelings of being back at Hogwarts gone completely, as he sank into an uneasy sleep, the names of the people that had died at King's Cross sounding continuinally in his head.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
"Both of us."  
  
"What?"  
  
"We'll take it at the same time."  
  
"You're on."  
  
"Kill the spare."  
  
A green light.  
  
"Where's Sirius, Kreacher?"  
  
"Master has gone out, Harry Potter."  
  
"Where's he gone?"  
  
"Master will not come back from the Department of Mysteries!"  
  
Frustration, panic.  
  
"I want to know where Sirius is!"  
  
"The little baby woke up fwightened and fort what it dreamed was twoo."  
  
Anger.  
  
"Come on, you can do better than that!"  
  
"SIRIUS! SIRIUS!"  
  
"He can't come back, Harry."  
  
"HE - IS -NOT -DEAD! SIRIUS!"  
  
"SHE KILLED SIRIUS! SHE KILLED HIM - I'LL KILL HER!  
  
Hatred, death, murder.  
  
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. . ."  
  
"Then - it might not be me?"  
  
"I am afraid, that there is no doubt that it is you."  
  
Pressure, pressure, pressure. . .  
  
"Potter, I am giving you one last chance. The choice is yours."  
  
"I will fight you, Riddle, and you will not touch any of my friends. Not if you value your life."  
  
"So be it."  
  
Defiance.  
  
"Not every student was on the train when it left the station. Seventeen are. .are dead."  
  
"How many parents were killed?"  
  
"Eleven lost their lives."  
  
Grief, loss.  
  
"Three second year Slytherins, Alastair Scrimgeour, Francus Murray, and Tom Ford."  
  
"Four Ravenclaws, three third years, Joanne Methven, Rose Usilar and Janeeta Depitt, and a second year, David Scone."  
  
"Four Hufflepuffs, two fourth years, Janey Quagmire and Maria Goudge, and two seventh years, Toby Reeves and Eric Tyler, who both joined us in fighting the Death Eaters.  
  
"Two Gryffindor second years, Robert Jones and Edward Westwick."  
  
"Four first years, Stan Thornley, Steven Blacklock, Emma Watson and Simon Adams."  
  
Massacre.  
  
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. . ."  
  
"He will have power the Dark lord knows not. . ."  
  
"Either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. . ."  
  
Pressure, pressure, pressure.  
  
"SIRIUS!"  
  
"HE - IS -NOT -DEAD! SIRIUS!"  
  
Anger, hatred, death, murder, pain.  
  
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. . ."  
  
"He will have power the Dark lord knows not. . ."  
  
"Either must die at the hand of the other for niether can live while the other survives. . ."  
  
Pressure, pressure, anger, hatred, death, murder, pressure, grief, loss, panic.  
  
Pressure, pressure, so much pressure. . .  
  
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. . ."  
  
Harry jumped up in his bed, panting heavily, completely drenched in cold sweat. He dimly noticed that his scar did not hurt at all, before he vomitted over the side of his bed on to the floor, and lay breathing heavily on the side of his bed. After five minutes, in which he tried furiously to clear his mind but was unable to, he sat up and walked shakily over to the water pitcher, and splashed water all over his face, the cold sweat now turning into irritable hot sweat.  
  
After he had drank a largely unsatisifying cup of water, Harry walked over to the window and opened it fully, breathing in the fresh, cold air outside. The storm had stopped now, and the world outside the window was still. It looked like a wonderful night, Harry thought, and he wished he was outside in the fresh air, away from the stifling dormitory, where the air was still thick with the words of his nightmare.  
  
Suddenly, a thought occured to Harry. Why couldn't he be outside? He was at Hogwarts now, he was safe, and he had his Invisibility Cloak, just in case. Quickly, he got dressed in his clothes from the previous day and pulled his Invisibility Cloak out of his trunk, and, pulling it over himself snugly (he was tall enough now that it fitted almost perfectly), exited the Gryffindor sixth-year boys dormitory. Ron, Neville, Dean and Seamus did not stir.  
  
Upon entering the common room he was not suprised to find it empty, as he had been in it only a short while ago alone, and he strode quickly to the portrait hole. Ignoring the Fat Lady ("who's there? You're going to get caught, you know!"), Harry climbed quickly through the portrait hole into the corridor, and made his way quickly through them, his mind playing the scenes of his nightmare continuinally in his head. The school seemed deserted, and he met no one whatsoever as he made his way quickly towards the Entrance Hall, descended the marble steps of the Entrance Hall when he reached them, and slipped quietly out of the large oak doors, shutting them quietly after him, and turning on the top step to face the outside world, which made him gasp at the beauty of it.  
  
The grounds were bathed in white moonlight, the Quidditch Pitch silent and thick of memories at the bottom of the lawn below him, the lake still and quiet, shimmering peacefully with the reflection of the moonlight. The Forbidden Forest stood dark and brooding overlooking them both, and the mountains that surrounded Hogwarts shone white in the moonlight as they stretched up into the star-strewn velvet night sky. Harry breathed in the fresh air and freedom, and made his way down the stone steps and set off across the lawn, making for the lake. When he reached the lake, he sat down on the grassy shore beside it, ignoring the wetness of the grass, and stared unseeingly at it's silent waters, dark and motionless in the calm night.  
  
Harry sighed, leaning back on his hands and looking up at the clear night sky. He had had nightmares like this frequently throughout the summer, and he had always found that a nightime walk helped, ever since he had gone to the park in Little Whinging where he had finally admitted that Sirius was really gone. Snape had explained during one of his Occlumency lessons that no matter how skilled Harry became at Occlumency, there was no way he could block simple nightmares, except with dreamless sleep potion, which became dangerous after a while if taken all the time. He sighed again, putting his head in his hands and trying to forget the memories that the nightmare had brought back so freshly to his mind.  
  
* * * * * * * *  
  
After a while, after he had felt strong feelings of anger, pain, hatred, love, jealously and friendship, Harry felt ready to go back to his dormitory, and risk sleep again. Checking the black and silver watch that Remus had given him for his birthday, Harry realised that it was only half past two in the morning. I can still get some sleep he thought, and pulled himself to his feet, feeling rather sad that he had to leave the calmness of the lake and the Hogwarts grounds, which he found had helped him immensely.  
  
However, as Harry turned towards the castle and began to walk back, he stopped short, a new thought entering his head.  
  
Maybe I can sleep out here.  
  
Harry thought about it. He had only slept outside once in his whole life, and that was when Uncle Vernon had completely lost it when Harry was nine (following a incident involving Harry, Dudley, magic, and a painfully placed wooden spoon) and chucked him out, telling him never to come back, if he knew what was good for him. Harry had slept at the bottom of the back garden in his Aunt's rose bushes all night, terrified that the Dursley's would not take him back, and that he would end up starving to death. Thankfully, the next day Uncle Vernon had gone back on his decision to chuck Harry out, but nevertheless the memory had stayed with him as one of his most painful recollections of his childhood at the Dursley's.  
  
But this was nothing like that, he decided. He was safe at Hogwarts, covered in an Invisibility Cloak, and there was no chance, unless Fudge found another reason, he was going to be chucked out because of it.  
  
It was alright he decided, and he lowered himself slowly on to the wet grass, making sure he was completely covered by the Invisibility Cloak, laying down with his back on the grass and his face to the stars.  
  
After a while, despite his fears of what he would find there, Harry drifted off to sleep, his face still facing towards the stars. He did not know that the thoughts of hundreds of people were with him as he did so, wishing him good health and praying that he would protect and save them from Voldemort, or that Sirius, the Dog Star, twinkled directly above him, looking over him protectively as he slept. 


	8. Chapter eight: Return to seminormality

Harry Potter and the Path of War  
  
Chapter Eight: Return to semi-normality  
  
Harry awoke to bright sunshine burning through his eyelids, and he groaned, squinting his eyes shut as hard as he could. He really didn't want to get up and jog around Little Whinging today, he was too tired. Remus won't mind if I miss one jog he thought stupidly, and rolled over, to snuggle into his warm, comfortable pillow again and go back to sleep.  
  
However, when Harry rolled over, all he felt was soaking wet grass in his face, a few blades of which went straight up his nose and into his ears. That woke him up, and Harry sat up quickly spluttering, looking around in confusion at the dewy grounds around him, with the sun rising over the clear blue lake in front of him. He realized after a second that he wasn't in Little Whinging anymore, but back at Hogwarts, and had slept outside last night. He shivered, and then suddenly sneezed; he was going to pay for this, he knew. Looking at his watch, he saw that it had just gone six o'clock in the morning. Harry breathed a sigh of relief; with any luck, he could still get back to the dormitory and pretend he had been there all night, before Ron, Dean, Seamus and Neville got up at seven.  
  
Harry cursed as he got to his feet. What the hell was I thinking? He wondered, as he checked his Invisibility Cloak (which was now quite muddy, he noticed) was covering him completely and began to make his way up the lawn back to the castle. How could he be so irresponsible as to sleep outside by the lake all night, without telling anyone? If he had woken up a few hours later, everyone would have noticed that he wasn't there, and Ron and Hermione would be worried sick, and Snape would have more ammunition to throw at him for acting stupid, and everyone would be looking for him . . .idiot! He said to himself, and slapped himself round the top of the head.  
  
As he trampled over the wet grass, still slightly groggy from just waking up, Harry thought about how strange it was to be getting up and not going for a jog; after all, he had been doing it for over six weeks now, and it had become part of his daily routine. He would have to find a different route to jog now that he was back at Hogwarts he supposed, and stopped for a minute to look around, to see where would be suitable; the Quidditch Pitch was a possibility he supposed, but it would get a bit boring just running round and round a circular pitch every morning. Around the lake seemed like a good idea, but it was a bloody big lake, and he wasn't sure he could cope with a run all the way around it. In the end, he decided to just go for it and see how far he could get around the lake, and resolved to do it the next morning.  
  
Making up his mind, Harry turned and continued on his way to the castle, but as he walked, he heard a shrill, bone-chilling cry from behind him, a cry which froze him in his tracks. There was complete silence for a second, where Harry felt he could actually hear his frantically beating heart trying to escape through his chest, before another two similar cries sounded through the Hogwarts grounds, sounding to Harry as if they were answering the first cry. Taking a deep breath, and gripping his wand tightly and defensively, Harry turned slowly around, and looked where he thought the cries had come from.  
  
As he surveyed the borders of the Forbidden Forest from his position on the Hogwarts lawn, looking for the source of the evil-sounding cry, Harry could not see anything. He scanned the rest of the grounds anyway, in case he had been mistaken on where the cries had come from, but found nothing unusual. As he was beginning to wonder if he had just imagined the entire thing, Harry caught a small movement above the Forest, and, quickly looking up, felt his breath catch in his throat.  
  
There were three Thestrals hovering in the air above the Forest, their leathery black wings beating the air around them loudly, their tightly- fitting black coats making them look even more skeletal from where Harry was standing. They were no longer uttering their shrieking cries, but merely hovering above the trees, in an upright position, the only sound being the swishing in the air of their powerful beating wings. Their bright white and unseeing eyes were fixed, despite his Invisibility Cloak, on Harry.  
  
Harry stood frozen for a minute, looking at the grotesque beasts dazedly, before turning and running, not stopping until he had pulled open the large oak doors of the Hogwarts Entrance Hall and slammed them again, reaching the security of the interior of Hogwarts, panting, with his heart hammering madly in his chest.  
  
Harry leant on the inside of the doors, trying to regain his breath and calm himself down, his mind filled with the image of the hovering Thestrals. Why were they just hovering like that? He wondered, and why were they looking right at me? He thought, remembering their white eyes looking straight at him. He was considering this in his mind when he regained his breath, and, standing up straighter, was greeted with the second sight that morning that made him stop in his tracks.  
  
Professor McGonagall was standing at the foot of the marble stairs, fully dressed already, a tray containing the Daily Prophet, a stack of toast and a jug of pumpkin juice in her hands, and was staring open-mouthed at the large oak doors, which Harry now realized she would have seen pulled open and slammed again seemingly of their own accord, as he was still wearing his Invisibility Cloak. She had probably heard his loud breathing as well, Harry realized.  
  
Harry cursed silently. Why had he not looked to see if there was anyone in the Entrance Hall? He did know a spell, taught to him by Remus over the summer, that allowed him to see through doors and walls, and he could have used that. Or, maybe, he could of just not opened both of the large doors at the same time, when all he had to do was open one of them, and even then only slightly. Then again, he hadn't exactly been thinking when he had ran into the Entrance Hall; after all, he had been running away from giant bats that looked like they were about to swoop down and eat him for breakfast. . .  
  
He was half-heartedly thinking about running for it when McGonagall suddenly dropped the tray she was holding (making a very loud noise, as the glass jug of pumpkin juice exploded and the stack of toast went flying) and withdrew her wand quickly from her robe pocket, pointing it steadily at the middle of the oak doors, directly where Harry was standing. Harry gulped.  
  
"Who's there?" McGonagall suddenly demanded in a steely voice, her eyes narrowed and her wand steady, pointed directly at his heart, Harry noticed. "Show yourself!"  
  
Harry swallowed. Don't really have a choice now he thought (he reckoned McGonagall would curse him before he had a chance to run for it, now she had her wand out and trained on the doors, and he wasn't going to try and curse her), so, bracing himself, Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak off and stood there, trying to ready himself for McGonagall's wrath, and half- prepared for her to start throwing curses at him anyway.  
  
She did not, however, suddenly start attacking him, but lowered her wand, looking relieved for a second, before narrowing her eyes at him. Harry braced himself.  
  
"Potter?" she said, looking at him suspiciously, and Harry nodded. "What are you doing outside at this hour?"  
  
Harry swallowed, trying to think up a good excuse. "Er, well, I woke up early, so I went for a walk", he said, in what he hoped was a convincing voice. She raised her eyebrows at him.  
  
"You went for a walk?" she repeated, looking disbelieving, and Harry nodded. McGonagall's eyebrows raised even higher.  
  
"Well if you only went for a walk, Potter," she said, "why are you out of breath? And why is there mud all over that Invisibility Cloak of yours? Did you go for a walk on your back? Or did you roll down the lawn to the Quidditch Pitch for a quick game?" Harry faltered, trying to come up with another excuse and at the same time trying to look innocent, and McGonagall made a frustrated noise in her throat.  
  
"Tell me the truth, Potter." Harry sighed, not having the energy to bother to lie anymore, and suddenly very angry with McGonagall, for no reason he could think of.  
  
"Fine," Harry said angrily, "I had a nightmare, about Cedric Diggory and the Department of Mysteries, and about the people who died yesterday at platform nine and three-quarters." He left out the part about the prophecy, and avoided saying Sirius' name. "I woke up and was scar. .I didn't want to go back to sleep, and I didn't want to stay in the dormitory, so I came outside for a walk, and I fell over in the mud by the lake. That's what I was doing outside at this hour." Harry looked at McGonagall in defiance, ready for her to start shouting at him, but feeling strangely better for getting everything off his chest.  
  
To his suprise, McGonagall didn't start shouting at him again; instead her face softened slightly, a slight expression of pity on her face, irritating Harry, but she still nonetheless looked stern.  
  
"Be that as it may, Potter," she said, "it is no excuse to risk your safety so early in the morning. Now, go back to your dormitory until breakfast." Harry could see the pity on her face even more clearly now.  
  
Harry nodded, angry that McGonagall was feeling sorry for him, which he hated anyone doing, and quickly walked through the Entrance Hall past her and up the marble stairs, hearing her vanish her tray of now inedible breakfast as he did so. As he turned a corner, he realized that McGonagall had seen his Invisibility Cloak, and had even commented on it. Why hadn't she consficated it? Harry wondered. Has Dumbledore told her I'm allowed it? Harry shrugged; it didn't matter, the fact is he had it.  
  
He did not turn around or slow down until he reached Gryffindor tower, unsure whether McGonagall would change her mind about confiscating his cloak or punishing him for being out so early, although Harry wasn't sure if he could be punished for being out at six o'clock in the morning. Probably could be for sleeping outside all night though, he thought. Idiot.  
  
As he approached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry groaned out loud, and suddenly felt like kicking himself hard. He still didn't know the password! What an idiot! He thought, and realized that he was getting quite tired of calling himself an idiot, especially so early in the morning.  
  
Feeling he might as well try, Harry rapped hard with his knuckles on the portrait, waking up the slumbering Fat Lady as he did so ("What? I'm awake, I'm awake!"), and was suprised when a timid voice called out, "who's there?" from the other side of the portrait, inside the common room. Harry recognized the voice, and sighed in both relief and exasperation.  
  
"It's Harry," he said resignedly, and was greeted with a gasp and quick footsteps, and no more than a second later the portrait swung open to reveal Colin Creevey, a wide smile on his face as he looked at Harry.  
  
"Hi Harry!" he said, as eagerly as ever, "what are you up so early for?" he questioned, looking curious.  
  
"Oh, just fancied a walk, you know, get some fresh air and all that," he said, holding his Invisibility Cloak behind his back and trying to distract Colin from it. "What about you?" he asked, and was confused when Colin suddenly looked embarrassed.  
  
"Oh, I just. .well, I had a bad dream," he muttered. Harry looked closely at him.  
  
"A bad dream?" he said suspiciously, and Colin looked down, "what kind of dream?" he added, and Colin looked up quickly. Harry was suprised to see that he had dark shadows under his eyes.  
  
"It's nothing, just stupid dreams about You-Know-Who," he said, obviously trying to sound casual, but Harry stared hard at him, a strange feeling of dread in his stomach suddenly.  
  
"You're having dreams about Voldemort?" he said sharply, making Colin jump backwards slightly, "what kind of dreams? What does he look like? Are you seeing him with his Death Eaters? Planning things? Talking to them? Torturing them?" Colin shook his head quickly.  
  
"No, nothing like that!" he said, looking terrified. "I never see what he looks like, he always has his hood over his face. I just se. .see him going to. .to my house, and. . .and hurting my mum and dad, and my little sister. That's all I see, I just see it over and over and over again." He looked close to tears now, looking down again, and Harry sighed, suddenly feeling terrible for upsetting him so much, but not really knowing how to make him feel better.  
  
"I'm sorry Colin," he said quietly, and Colin looked up in suprise at his apology. "I just had to know what kind of dreams you were having about Vol. .about You-Know-Who," he corrected himself quickly, not wanting to upset him anymore by saying Voldemort's name again. "It's just, if you were having particular dreams about him, they could have been important, and certain people would have to know about them."  
  
Colin nodded, and, suddenly looking away, shook his head vigorously, wiping his eyes as he did so.  
  
"Sorry Harry," he mumbled to the floor, "just being a baby. Don't worry about it." Harry gripped him by the shoulder suddenly, and Colin looked up at him, a mixture of fear and confusion on his face as he looked into Harry's face.  
  
"Don't be stupid Colin," he said firmly, "you are not being a baby. Would you call me a baby?" he said, and Colin's expression turned to one of disbelief.  
  
"Of course not!" he said, looking incredulous that Harry would suggest such a thing of him, but Harry shook his head.  
  
"Well, you are, right now. Do you want to know why I was up so early?" he said, unsure of why he was saying this to Colin Creevey, of all people. Colin looked curiously up at him.  
  
"Why?" he said. Harry sighed, letting go of Colin's shoulder and standing up straight again. He looked down at Colin in understanding.  
  
"The same reason as you. You're not the only one who has nightmares, you know."  
  
Colin's eyes widened. "You. .you as well?" he choked out, and Harry nodded.  
  
"I've been having them all summer, really bad ones. So you see, by calling yourself a baby, you're also calling me one. And I know you don't think I'm a baby," he added, knowing Colin's hero worship of him. Colin shook his head vigorously.  
  
"No, of course I don't! So. .so I'm not having these nightmares because I'm a baby, or because I'm a coward?" he said shakily, and Harry shook his head.  
  
"No, it's neither of those things. And I'm sure it's not just you and me who are having nightmares because of that bastard," he growled suddenly, making Colin look at him in alarm. Harry fixed him with a hard stare.  
  
"Remember that none of this is your fault. If something. . .if something does happen to your family, it's only one person's fault, and you know who that is." Colin nodded, and then looked up at Harry with such a determined look that Harry was startled.  
  
"Are you teaching the DA again this year, Harry? I know you said on the train yesterday that you weren't, but. .well, it seemed like you were, sort of, fibbing, or holding something back, or, or something, you know. . ." Colin's voice dissolved into nothing, and Harry smiled, wondering how hard it must be for him to accuse Harry Potter of lying, and to his face as well. Harry was about to answer him when Colin started talking again, this time very fast.  
  
"I mean, I suppose you had your reasons for not telling me the truth, but well, I really need your help, Dennis does as well, and. ."  
  
"Colin!" said Harry, holding up his hand to shut him up. "Colin, calm down for god's sake. I'll tell you the truth then, but if you tell anyone, anyone at all, then I'll never speak to you again. Ever. Understand?" Colin nodded mutely, looking terrified at the prospect of Harry never talking to him again. Harry sighed, and directed Colin over to a dark corner of the common room. He wasn't sure exactly why he was telling someone this, telling Colin Creevey of all people; he supposed it was because he knew how it felt to have important information held back from him, and he didn't want to go and do the same thing himself to someone else.  
  
"I am going to the DA this year," he said quietly to Colin, "but I'm not going to start it up officially, it's staying a secret. And," he continued, holding up his hand, as Colin smiled excitedly and opened his mouth to speak, "on no account is anyone going to be allowed to join unless I know I can trust them 110%, both with keeping the DA secret, and with any other information I want to stay inside the group. That includes you Colin, and your brother as well. I can't afford for anything to happen like last year. The war has started now, and students need to be able to defend themselves, and the DA is the best way to do that at the moment. If anyone betrays it, or if you tell anyone what I just told you, the DA may have to come into the open, and people will die, because Voldemort will find out that people are supporting me, and he will go after them and their families. Do you understand?"  
  
Colin nodded, looking shaken by Harry's grim words, yet there was a determination in his eyes that Harry had not seen before.  
  
"I won't let you down, Harry," he said, and Harry nodded at him.  
  
"I hope not."  
  
He said goodbye to Colin and started to make his way towards the dormitory stairs, checking his watch to see that he only had half an hour left before the other boys got up, when Colin's voice stopped him.  
  
"Harry?" it said hesitantly, and Harry turned.  
  
"Yeah?" he said, and Colin swallowed, looking like he was trying to build up all his courage to say whatever it was he was going to say.  
  
"You're. . .you're going to beat You-Know-Who, Harry," he said, with such a strong belief in his face and in his words that Harry stared. "I've always known it, since I first read about you, that if he ever did come back, it'd be you who got rid of him in the end. You. .you will, won't you? I mean, you will be able to, won't you?" he said, faltering at the sudden dark look on Harry's face.  
  
Harry stared past Colin and into the fireplace behind him, the words of the prophecy coming to the front of his mind again.  
  
"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. . ." But Voldemort was so powerful. .how could he ever have enough power to defeat him? Harry shook his head.  
  
"I'll try my best, Colin," he said quietly, prepared for Colin's face to fall, but, strangely, that seemed to be enough for him, as he nodded, looking serious for once.  
  
"Then you will, then," he said. Harry just nodded, told him to try and get more sleep, and turned his back on him and went quickly up the stairs to his dormitory, his mind filled yet again by the words of the prophecy.  
  
Luckily when Harry opened the dormitory door, he found Ron, Dean, Seamus and Neville still fast asleep, snoring behind their bedcurtains. Harry crept over to his bed, noticing idly that his vomit from the previous night had disappeared, and lay down on top of the covers, looking up at the roof of the bed above him, and tried as hard as he could to clear his mind, knowing that distressing thoughts about the prophecy would only weaken his Occlumency defences and give Voldemort easy access to his mind and thoughts. Instead he concentrated on the disturbing sight of the three hovering Thestrals above the Forbidden Forest, looking directly at him. Why had they been looking at him like that? Harry wondered. It was clear to him that they could look through Invisibility Cloaks; it couldn't have been a coincidence that he was standing exactly where they were looking. No, they had definitely been looking at him.  
  
Harry shivered. What was wrong with them? He thought. Last year the Thestrals hadn't had a problem with him, they had even seemed to like him; he had even ridden one all the way to London! So now, a few months later, why were they all just staring at him like he was food? It didn't make sense. He remembered seeing the rest of the Thestrals yesterday, carrying the carriages of students up to Hogwarts in the rain and lightning; they had all been staring at him then as well, and Luna had said they had been smiling at him. What was going on? Harry wondered, frustrated and confused with the Thestrals behaviour.  
  
He shook his head, trying to forget about the disturbing creatures and everything else besides, and after a difficult struggle he managed it, closing his eyes and seeing the pure white light that he now, as a fully- trained Occlumens, saw everytime he shut his eyes.  
  
Harry lay in relative peace for a while, his mind blissfully clear, until, at seven o'clock, his and Dean's alarm clocks went off, and the day began.  
  
"So Vanya's an Auror?" Ron said quietly, as Harry finished his story of what he had found out in Dumbledore's office, leaving out the part about his Spell Construction lessons with Dumbledore. They were sitting alone at the far end of the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall at breakfast, where Ron and Hermione had been listening to Harry's account of his meeting for the last fifteen minutes, their argument the previous night settled after Ron had suprisingly taken Hermione off and apologised to her when she had come down from the girl's dormitory for breakfast. "And Dumbledore reckons he's not up Fudge's arse like Umbridge was?" Ron continued. Harry nodded.  
  
"That's right. Kingsley. .you know, Shacklebolt? Yeah, he's worked with Vanya for years, and he said that Vanya's definitely not a Fudge supporter, and that there's an equally good chance he's not a Death Eater either."  
  
"Well Dumbledore's veritaserum testing will tell us where his loyalties are," Hermione said quietly, although she had voiced her concerns earlier about whether the verisateum testing was right or not. "Anyway, he didn't really look like a Death Eater to me, just a very serious person. You know, just very grim. Like Moody." But Ron was still frowning.  
  
"I'm still not sure about him though," he said slowly, "are there ways to get around telling the truth even under veritaserum? Like, you know, if you can do Occlumency really well or something? And besides, he was glaring round at everyone last night at dinner the same way Snape does." Hermione sighed.  
  
"It's impossible to avoid telling the truth under verisateum," she said loftily, in what Harry called her 'bossy voice'. "The most you can do is avoid answering the question, and only a handful of people have ever managed to do that. And besides, Ron," she now said, "just because he looked like Snape always does, that doesn't mean he's a Death Eater."  
  
"Well Snape is a Death Eater isn't he?" said Ron loudly, and Hermione slapped him on the arm and Harry put his hand quickly over his mouth, squeezing it shut. Ron looked angrily at them for a minute, before his eyes suddenly widened, obviously realizing what he'd just said. Harry pulled his hand away from Ron's mouth, and the three of them looked around the Hall, but nobody seemed to have heard Ron's comment, luckily, being immersed in their own first-day-of-term gossiping. Harry breathed a sigh of relief, and looked at Ron and Hermione, who were now glaring at eachother, Ron rubbing his arm where Hermione had hit it. Ron opened his mouth to speak.  
  
"Don't you two start arguing already, lessons haven't even begun yet," he said, and Ron and Hermione fell silent. Harry helped himself to a bowl of porridge, and as he was eating the morning post arrived. His usual Daily Prophet was dropped in his porridge by the delivery owl, the porridge promptly jumping out of the bowl and on to his face and robes. Harry was about to wipe it off when the main headline of the newspaper caught his eye: Harry Potter saves the day at platform nine and three-quarters!  
  
"Ugh," Harry said disgustedly, throwing the paper away from him in to the middle of the table, "not more of that. You can read it if you want Ron."  
  
Ron shrugged, and scraped the porridge off of the paper with his hand and began to read the front page. Hermione gave him a disgusted look, and unfolded her own paper, which had landed neatly in her nap.  
  
"Scourgify!" Harry muttered, cleaning the porridge off of his face and robes, and determidly staring down at the table and not at Ron and Hermione, as they read about what a hero he was.  
  
After a few minutes reading, Ron whistled. "Wow Harry, I never knew you took on four Death Eaters at a time!" he said, "that's not the story you told us!"  
  
"That's because I didn't," Harry mumbled to the table, still not looking at Ron or Hermione, getting angrier and angrier, "they're just trying to make me into some sort of bloody hero. It's not all about me is it?" he said.  
  
"Hmmm, let's see. . . 'Harry Potter, the saviour of the wizarding world'. .'The Boy Who Lived fights like an Auror,' says onlooker Geraldo Fishmonger'. . . 'Harry Potter's growing signs of leadership and power' . . .'Harry Potter's brave and self-sacrificing stand against You-Know-Who at platform nine and three-quarters' . . .and that's just the first three pages! Wonder what's on the next page, eh superboy! Oh, that's better!" Ron exclaimed, and Harry looked up at him. He watched Ron's eyes get brighter as they travelled quickly down the fourth page of the paper, and by the time he had read it he had a huge grin on his face.  
  
He passed the paper to Harry. "Here, look at that," he said, "you'll like that." Harry gave Ron a suspicious look, but Ron just carried on grinning. Hermione, sitting next to Harry, also looked down at Harry's paper, saw what page he was on, and flicked to it in her own paper. Harry looked down and immediately saw the headline; Is this the end for Fudge's Ministry? Harry quickly flattened out the paper and began to read.  
  
'The invasion and consequental mass murder of Hogwarts students and parents  
at Platform nine and three-quarters by You-Know-Who and his followers yesterday spells the end for Fudge's reign as Minister of Magic, according  
to many political commentators and insiders throughout the Ministry, it emerged last night. The Ministry's complete lack of defences in place at  
the platform to prevent such a massacre has been met with widespread outrage and anger throughout wizarding Britain. 'Cornelius Fudge should be  
thinking very carefully about his position as Minister of Magic,' said  
Almed Detourt, a leading member of the Department of Magical Transportation, early this morning from his desk. 'It is the Minister of Magic's responsibility to provide adequate protection for the students of Hogwarts until they reach the station of Hogsmeade, and if we cannot trust  
our current Minister to provide this protection, a new Minister must be  
sought, who will not fail both ourselves and our children in this vital  
aspect of safety'.  
Mr Detourt's was not the only cry of outrage aimed at Minister Fudge. 'Other aspects of the Minister's defences against the threat of You-Know- Who and his followers must be questioned following this appalling event,'  
declared the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement  
Madam Amelia Bones. 'While my Department is doing everything it can to ensure the containment of this threat, we cannot possibly expect to contain it fully without the support of a fully competent Minister of Magic behind  
us. We can only do so much'. Many other influential members of the Wizengamot have also expressed their concerns about Fudge's competence as  
Minister of Magic, and it is not only leading members of the wizarding  
community that have expressed these concerns; it has been understood by this reporter that Mr Fudge's private secretary is currently suffering from semi-servere burns from the amount of Howlers aimed at Mr Fudge since the  
battle of platform nine and three-quarters, and the Minister's private  
office has consequently been shut following this. The majority of the wizarding community of Britain is still coming to terms with it's anger and feelings of disappointment in Fudge and his Ministry by their ignorance over the past fifteen months of the imminent threat of You- Know-Who, who has been, according to Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore  
and the Boy Who Lived Harry Potter, at large since last June, and, following this outrageous year-long policy of ignorance, it is this recent lack of defence at the meeting place of innocent children that has finally inspired many to declare that Fudge's reign as Minister of Magic is over. It is the opinion of this reporter also that we, the wizarding community of  
Great Britain, should begin our search for a new Minister of Magic; one that will not fail us, and one that will protect us from the threat that  
these dangerous terrorists pose to our society'.  
  
Harry leant back from the table and breathed out deeply. Hermione too leant back, having finished the article at the same time as Harry. Ron was still smiling.  
  
"Oh it's not that excellent Ron," she said sharply, making Ron's grin falter, and causing him to stare at her incredulously.  
  
"What? It's 'not that excellent'? Hermione, do you want Fudge as Minister of Magic? We might've been able to have You-Know-who under control by now, if it weren't for Fudge!" Hermione sighed.  
  
"You're missing the point Ron. Yes, if Fudge wasn't in power we might have been in a better position, but that's happened now, we can't do anything about it. What I'm worried about is if Fudge is kicked out, there's going to have to be elections for a new Minister; a Death Eater might become Minister of Magic." Ron eyes widened in realization, and he nodded in agreement with Hermione, looking grim.  
  
"Well, let's just hope they don't," he said. "Anyway, I'm sure they'll be tests and stuff to make sure everyone who runs for the election is alright though. No Death Eater's going to become Minister of Magic." Ron nodded to himself, as if that was the end of it, but, to Harry's eyes, he didn't look too sure. Neither did Hermione, for that matter, and, Harry realized that he was unsure as well. "A Death Eater might become Minister of Magic". . .or Voldemort could put the new Minister under Imperius. . .maybe Fudge was under Imperius. .  
  
"Timetables!"  
  
Harry jumped, twisting quickly, both in his chair and in his thoughts. Behind him stood Professor McGonagall, who glared down at him. Harry squirmed, remembering their encounter only a few hours ago. Maybe she had changed her mind about punishing him. . .  
  
However, it appeared that she hadn't changed her mind. "Don't be late for my lesson, you three," was all she said, giving them their timetables before turning back to the staff table. Harry reached for his timetable. Ron and Hermione were already reading theirs. Looking down at his timetable, Harry read what lessons he had today; Defence Against the Dark Arts, Transfiguration, double Charms, and Spell Construction.  
  
"Got Vanya first," Ron said, "that should be interesting. An Auror for a teacher, eh? Maybe we'll actually get to use our wands in DADA this year."  
  
"Hopefully," Harry muttered, looking down his timetable for the rest of the week. He noticed he had Healing tomorrow, with someone called Healer Elfrida.  
  
"Excellent!" Ron said suddenly, making Harry and Hermione look at him curiously. "I've got the first two periods tomorow morning off," he said as an explanation. "Have you two?"  
  
"No, we've got Double Potions," Hermione said briskly, making Harry groan, and Ron grimace. "Tough luck mate," he said, slapping him on the back, looking grim, "double Potions first thing in the morning. Least you got in, though," he added quietly. Harry looked at him; evidently, Ron was still upset that Harry had got in and he hadn't. Hermione, wisely, didn't say anything, although she looked like she was bursting to do so. Harry, also feeling it was better to say nothing to Ron, returned to his Daily Prophet.  
  
As he read further articles on the "Battle of Platform of Nine and Three Quarters" (which it seemed to have been officially termed now), on how he had apparently 'rallied those brave few to his cause', and how Voldemort had fled the scene 'in the face of Harry Potter's fury', Harry realized vaguely that he was beginning to feel angrier and angrier, and when he saw that, twelve pages in, the names of the victims had still not been mentioned, he became aware that his hands holding the paper were shaking violently, and his vision was starting to go blurry. He could no longer see the paper in front of him, and the Great Hall was beginning to move around. .the paper in his hands seemed to have become a big black and white blob. . .  
  
Those bastards, he thought, hearing the paper rustle loudly in his trembling hands, I'm no hero. .  
  
"Alright, that's enough!" said a voice in front of him, and Harry felt his hands suddenly become lighter, and, blinking, saw that the paper had been ripped out of his hands by Ron, sitting across from him, and looking at him with a angry, anxious look on his face. "Stop reading that crap, it's just doing you're head in."  
  
"Ron's right, Harry," said Hermione quietly from his right, putting a calming hand on his arm, "you can't keep reading this if it's going to do this to you."  
  
Harry nodded numbly, and let his hands drop to his lap. Hermione patted his arm, and Harry turned to see her looking anxiously at him, with Ron across from him with an identical look on his face. His head relatively clear now, Harry smiled weakly at the two of them. I'm so lucky to have friends like these he thought, before shaking his head.  
  
"Sorry about that," he said to the two of them, trying to forget his anger over the Prophet, "just got carried away." They looked doubtfully at him, so Harry smiled at them, in what he hoped was a reassuring way.  
  
"Look, I'm fine now, okay? Come on," he said, trying to lighten the mood, "let's go see if we can use our wands in DADA this year." Ron snorted.  
  
"Oh, but I'm going to miss learning about Defensive Magical Theory so much," he said in a mock-sad voice, and Harry and Hermione laughed, making Ron grin. The three of them shouldered their bags and made their way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts Classroom, the depressing words of The Daily Prophet effectively gone from their minds, or gone, at least, from two of their minds; one of them continued to go over the same eight words in their head, doubt and fear gnawing them as they did so:  
  
'Harry Potter, the saviour of the wizarding world.'  
  
When Harry, Ron and Hermione arrived at the entrance to the classroom, they found a large group of students assembled at the door, chattering to eachother excitedly. The three of them joined the queue.  
  
"What do you reckon he'll be like then?" said Ron to the two of them, and Harry frowned.  
  
"Dunno," he said, "hopefully he'll be alright." He was still having trouble forgetting the words of the Prophet, and shook his head to stop thinking about it. "What about you, Hermione?" he said, trying to distract himself.  
  
"I'm not sure," she said, biting her lip. "I think he's definitely going to be. . .well, I think he'll be intense, really, judging on how he was in the Hall last night. It just came across in his body language. And I also think. . "  
  
But Harry and Ron never got to find out what else Hermione thought, and Harry finally managed to get rid of the haunting words in his mind, because at that moment footsteps were heard at the end of the corridior from which Harry, Ron and Hermione had come. Looking up, Harry saw Professor Vanya striding down the corridor towards them, his black robes billowing out behind him, making him look remarkably like Snape in Harry's opinion. When he reached the class and stood silently in front of them, a few students gasped at his scar, which started above his left eye and diagonally went down over his eye and mouth to the middle of his chin. He looked at the class for a minute, no expression on his face, before sweeping past them and into the classroom without a word, the door opening by itself as he approached. Harry and the rest of the class looked uncertainly around at eachother, wondering whether they should go in or not, when a low, quiet voice was heard from within the room, saying "enter." The class, again looking at eachother uncertainly, entered slowly, Harry, Ron and Hermione last.  
  
There were only three seats left when they entered the room; the seats in the front row. Vanya was staring at them standing there, and they scrambled for their seats. As Harry did so, he noticed Malfoy glaring at him from the back row, where he was sat with Crabbe and Goyle. Harry glared back at him.  
  
He was broken out of his glaring by a sudden hard tug on his robes by Hermione, which made him realize that he was still standing up, and that the whole class was staring at him, including Vanya. He quickly sat down, feeling like an idiot, and got his wand and textbook out quickly. Hermione sighed.  
  
Vanya was now leaning against the front of his desk rubbing his chin, looking down on the class with a calculating look, as if he was sizing them up. As Harry was beginning to feel irritated with this, Vanya spoke, making eye contact with each student as he did so.  
  
"This year," he began, in a quiet voice, though they caught every word, "you will begin your NEWT level Defence Against the Dark Arts studies. Every one of you have achieved at least an 'Exceeds Expectations' grade at OWL level Defence Against the Dark Arts, and so I am expecting a certain degree of competence from you. I will be your teacher for your NEWT level Defence Against the Dark Arts studies, and not merely your teacher. At times, I will be your teacher; at others, I will be your guide, pointing you in the right direction; at others, I will be your assistant, and, at others, I will be the pupil, and you the teacher." Ron and Harry looked at eachother in confusion, but before curious whispers could break out across the classroom, Professor Vanya continued. Harry glanced to his side; Hermione's eyes were shining, her full attention on Vanya.  
  
"There will be several different sections in this course," he continued, "none of which you will already be familiar with, and none of it which I will prepare you for, or even tell you that we are going to study them until we do, bar a few exceptions. Learning to deal with unexpected situations is a skill I expect you all to accomplish by the end of the course, as well as many other skills, skills that may very well save your life one day. As I hope you have all now realized, not every section in this course will be on a normal teacher/student level. You will be working independently without the guidance of a teacher much more than you are used to, preparing detailed projects and the like, and you will learn to think for yourself and use your own initiative more, rather than simply being spoon-fed by a textbook or a teacher, although that will, inevitably, come into the course. You will learn how to make the best of any situation that requires you to use your Defence Against the Dark Arts skills, and how to analyse these situations.  
  
"Most importantly, you will learn how to fight, and fight you shall; I will train you to fight as well as I possibly can at NEWT level, and, at the end of the course, I expect every single one of you to be at a level that would give you a realistic chance of being considered for an Auror placement. If even one of you cannot show this in the NEWT tests, I will fail the entire class. If doing well to save your lives seems too unreal to you, as it will to most of you children, maybe that will bring the importance of you perfecting this course home to you. Do you want the rest of your class baying for your blood, because you didn't work as hard? Want that on your conscience? I didn't think so.  
  
"Ultimately, it is my aim in this course to prepare you as strongly as I can for your entry into the wizarding world, away from the safety of this school, where it is probable that, sooner or later, you will come into contact, in some form or another, with the Dark Lord and his followers. I assure you, without the help I am offering you, when you come into contact with a Death Eater, or even You-Know-Who himself, you will die. You need this training." Vanya sat down on top of his desk, folding his arms and staring down at the class, ignoring the horrified looks on most of the student's faces.  
  
"Any questions?"  
  
The class was completely silent. Harry glanced around. Many of the students looked completely scared out of their wits; Lavender and Parvati both seemed to be trying not to cry, Seamus looked like he was considering jumping under the table and never coming out again, and Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley and their friends were looking warily at the door, as if they expected Voldemort and his Death Eaters to burst through it at any second. Neville, sat alone at the table behind Harry, looked scared but determined, as did a few others around the room. Harry nodded at him, before turning to look at his friends; Ron looked angry, and was glaring at Vanya (probably because he called us children, Harry thought), and Hermione looked torn between tears, fear and anger. Vanya spoke again.  
  
"I make no apologies for what I just said," he said, looking at them each in turn, "you may feel it is harsh, but the world is harsh. You must learn this; otherwise, you will not survive. Now," he said, standing upright and withdrawing his wand, "let's get to work."  
  
The class suddenly looked very nervous.  
  
"One thing that we are going to be doing in this course that I will tell you about beforehand is this; we will be having regular duelling lessons. Once a week, on the Wednesday morning double period to be precise, the entire lesson will be devoted to actual duelling. We will begin this practice today. Stand up, and form a line at the back of the room."  
  
Ron looked at Harry in alarm, evidently remembering that Vanya was an actual Auror, and Harry shrugged. He, Ron and Hermione quickly made their way to the back of the room with the others. Neville tripped over his stool as he stood, looking nervous. Hermione looked apprehensive, Harry noticed.  
  
Vanya flicked his wand suddenly, and the tables and chairs quickly flew to the sides of the room. Harry felt Hermione tense next to him, and heard Ernie Mcmillan utter a small whimper.  
  
"Now," said Vanya, "you will each be Duelling me today, instead of eachother, which is what you will usually do in the Duelling lessons. I wish to see how well you would perform against someone far beyond your normal level of combat." Vanya seemed to put a menacing threat behind these last few words, and Harry heard Dean Thomas gulp from a few places down the line. Vanya smiled strangely, and Harry felt the class take a collective breath.  
  
"Alright, let's start on this side," Vanya said, nodding at the other end of the line to where Harry, Ron and Hermione were standing. "And you are?" Vanya questioned, looking to his right at someone who Harry could not see.  
  
"Draco Malfoy," the person replied, and Harry tried, and failed, to prevent a gleeful smile coming over his face. This is going to be good, he thought, Malfoy getting knocked about by an Auror. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ron grin too.  
  
"Lucius Malfoy's son?" Vanya questioned, and Harry barely heard Malfoy's quiet reply of yes. It sounded like he was gritting his teeth. Vanya made no further comment.  
  
"To the front of the room, Mr Malfoy," he said quietly, and Harry saw Malfoy step out of line and walk silently up to the front of the room, withdrawing his wand as he walked. Vanya too walked to the front of the room, and gestured for Malfoy to stand in line with him, face to face, although, Harry noticed, Malfoy was only up to Vanya's nose.  
  
"We bow to eachother, Mr Malfoy," Vanya said, making the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand up, remembering someone else saying those words. "Come, the niceties must be observed . . . Dumbledore would like you to show manners . . Bow to death, Harry. ." Harry shook his head, and brang his mind back to reality. Hermione looked at him anxiously, but he mouthed I'm fine, and she nodded, looking to the front of the room again. Harry smiled at her concern, and looked back to Vanya and Malfoy, who were now ten feet away from eachother, at separate ends of the front of the classroom. Both had their wands raised. Harry grinned; Malfoy won't know what's hit him.  
  
"On the count of three," Vanya said, his eyes locked on Malfoy. "One . . . two . . . three . ."  
  
"Protego!" Malfoy said quickly, creating a shield around himself, and it was lucky he did, for less than a second later a red light had smashed forcefully into it, making Malfoy stagger backwards. He raised his wand immediately.  
  
"Stupefy!" he cried, but Vanya simply sidestepped the spell, looking bored, and said almost casually, "Expelliarmus!"  
  
Malfoy, however, dodged the spell, although it was a close thing; it seemed to have hit the sleeve of his robes. Vanya sent another disarming charm at him, but Malfoy dodged it, and cried, "Prosterno!"  
  
The spell, to Harry's suprise, hit Vanya in the arm, but didn't knock him down (as Harry knew the spell was meant to do), but merely made him take an awkward step backwards. Malfoy raised his wand again, but Vanya had already sent a stunning spell at him. It hit him square in the chest, and Malfoy fell backwards on to the hard floor, knocked out.  
  
Many of the class were sniggering, including Ron, but Harry was now troubled. Malfoy had actually got a hit on an experienced Auror in an equal duel . . .he was a good duelist, Harry thought, realizing that he had never really had a proper duel with him, without something happening to stop it before the end. Harry looked at Hermione, who gave him a meaningful look; we'll talk about it later. Harry nodded.  
  
Vanya had now revived Malfoy, pulled him to his feet, and handed him back his wand, which had rolled away when he had fallen. He shook Malfoy's hand briefly, looking at him with narrowed eyes, before gesturing for him to rejoin the line of students. Malfoy looked shaken, Harry thought, as he walked back to the line, but when he made eye contact with Harry, he smirked widely. Harry noticed, to his irritation, that he was no longer missing any teeth.  
  
"Next!" Vanya said from the front of the room, and Crabbe lumbered towards the front of the room. One disarming charm later, it was Goyle's turn; one impediment jinx later, and it was Blaise Zabini's turn.  
  
As the duels progressed, not one person managed to duel with Vanya as well as Malfoy had. Most students had gone for simply trying to block or dodge all of Vanya's spells, and had all been hit on the third one. Seamus had simply tried to run away from Vanya, ducking behind the tables and chairs at the side of the room, before Vanya had stunned him with a well- aimed spell. The others had attempted to attack Vanya instead of just defending themselves, and had all been hit after Vanya had sidestepped their first spell and sent a quick spell back at them.  
  
"Next!"  
  
Harry turned to see Neville walking forwards, his wand arm shaking. Everyone, including Neville, knew the drill by now; walk to the front of the class, bow to Vanya as he bowed to you, step five paces back from eachother, listen to Vanya count to three, and then begin.  
  
"One . . . two . . . three . . Durus Pulsus!"  
  
Neville dodged the spell, and raised his wand to attack, but was forced to duck when Vanya quickly shot another spell at him. He jumped to the side, still in a ducking position, and fired a spell at Vanya, but missed by miles. Vanya shot a confundus charm at his chest, and Neville pulled his entire body sideways, the spell just grazing his side, and pointed his wand again at Vanya.  
  
"Stupe. ."  
  
"Expelliarmus!"  
  
Vanya's disarming charm hit Neville in the arm, and his wand flew in a wide arc and into Vanya's waiting hand. Vanya walked over to Neville, who was now sweating profusely, and gave him his wand back. He then shook Neville's hand hard.  
  
"Excellent," he said, "best so far. Excellent manuevouring. Back in line. Next!"  
  
Neville walked back, looking dazed, and bashfully pleased with himself. The entire class was staring at him, and Ron looked gobsmacked. Malfoy snorted, and Seamus patted Neville on the back as he rejoined the line. Harry smiled to himself, and looked down the line; it was only Dean, who was going forwards now, then Ron, then Hermione, and then it was his turn. Harry smirked to himself; he had been training with Aurors in duelling all summer; he was pretty sure he could give Vanya a run for his money. We'll see who's a child, he thought, thinking up a strategy for his duel with the Auror.  
  
But then Harry remembered something Moody had said to him during one of his lessons in the summer, something about keeping his new talents under wraps. . .  
  
"Don't show your hand until you have no other choice."  
  
That was it, Harry thought. He had told Harry that, although he had all these new skills, he shouldn't show them off in front of people who could tell his enemies about them; apparently he should try to look as weak as possible, so they underestimated him. "Lull them into a false sense of security," he had said, and, Harry had to agree, it was a good idea. So, Harry decided, I won't duel as well as I could do against Vanya. Don't show your hand. Right. Got you.  
  
But then. . .  
  
Hadn't Dumbledore said that Vanya was most definitely not a Death Eater, and more than likely not a supporter of Fudge either? Who would he tell, if Harry duelled exceptionally well against him, or even beat him, as he had beaten Kingsley a few times? No, Harry decided, I'm going to duel as well as I can. Can't let Vanya get away with calling me a child. Can't let Malfoy show me up either. . .  
  
And then Harry remembered:  
  
Malfoy.  
  
Damn it.  
  
He had forgotten about Draco Malfoy, who was definitely in a position to tell Voldemort about his new talents. Even if his father was in prison, he was sure Malfoy had contacts amongst the Death Eaters, ready to tell them immediately when he heard something juicy about Dumbledore or Harry. He may even be one himself, Harry thought, although he found this unlikely, considering Malfoy's age. But he'll still be able to tell Voldemort about my duelling, Harry thought.  
  
Harry sighed dejectedly. Just going to have to grit my teeth and do it, he thought, annoyed at the fact that he couldn't show Vanya how good a dueller he was, or pay him back for calling him a child. I'm still going to do better than Malfoy though, he thought stubbornly, even if I do have to lose.  
  
"Ennervate."  
  
Harry looked up just in time to see Vanya reviving Hermione, who he had apparently stunned. He gave her back her wand and pulled her to her feet, shaking her hand as she stood shakily. Harry saw him say something to her, but couldn't hear what was being said. Hermione smiled, however, and started walking back towards the line. Vanya looked at Harry, and grinned. Harry stared back at him.  
  
"Next!"  
  
Harry took a deep breath, and began to walk forwards. Ron patted him on the back as he went. He gave Hermione a small smile as he passed her, and she mouthed good luck at him. Harry snorted to himself. Like he needed luck when he was losing on purpose. . .  
  
"So, Harry Potter," said Vanya quietly, as Harry stood in line with him, briefly noticing that he was taller than his professor, "let's see if the legends are true. Ready to duel?" Harry nodded, not saying anything, and withdrew his wand. They bowed to eachother, Harry remembering Nate's advice from the summer to never take your eyes off of your enemies' face when bowing to them, and turned and took five paces back from eachother, making them ten feet apart. Harry took another deep breath. Don't show your hand until you have no other choice. He sighed, accepting that he was going to lose, but at least going to put up a good fight for a few minutes, and assumed his usual duelling position, ready for whatever Vanya threw at him.  
  
"One . . . two . . . three . . Percutio!"  
  
"Protego!" Harry cried, blocking the spell, and ducked Vanya's next spell. He fired an impediment jinx at Vanya, not expecting it to hit him, and was not proved wrong. Vanya jumped lightly to the side, missing the spell, and fired another spell at Harry, who blocked it with the slashing movement that Nate had taught him. Vanya ducked the deflected spell from this movement, and Harry jumped backwards, beginning to circle Vanya, who began to do the same thing to Harry. I've got to hit him once to be square with Malfoy, Harry thought, as he circled around the classroom, I've already lasted longer than him. .  
  
"Sopor!"  
  
Harry barely put up a shield in time to stop the spell, and berated himself for losing focus. Just got to hit him once. .  
  
"Expelliarmus!" Harry cried, pointing his wand at Vanya, who blocked it quickly. This, however, had been Harry's plan, and as Vanya fired off his comeback spell, Harry sidestepped it and cried, "Durus Pulsus!"  
  
The spell knocked Vanya forcefully into the back wall of the classroom, but he recovered quickly, and sent a quick stunning spell at Harry. Harry put up no defence, feeling he'd at least proven he was a better duellist than Malfoy, and a second later he felt nothing at all, as he fell to floor, stunned.  
  
"Ennervate."  
  
Harry sat up quickly, now used to the feeling of being stunned from his summer lessons, and allowed Vanya to pull him to his feet and give him back his wand. He did not, however, give Harry any words of praise, as he had done with Neville (and presumably Hermione), but merely glared at him.  
  
"Stay behind after class, Potter," he said coldly, "now get back in line."  
  
Harry stared at him, wondering what was wrong with him, before coming to his senses and walking back to the line. He noticed that some people averted their gaze as he looked at them. Malfoy was looking at him with a look on his face that Harry didn't like; it looked calculating, somehow. Parvati and Lavender were looking at him strangely, and Ron, Dean and Seamus were staring at him with their mouths open. Harry ignored them, got back in line next to Hermione (who was staring at him in suprise), and stared hard at the floor, wondering if perhaps he'd gone a bit too far in proving he was better than Malfoy.  
  
He was distracted from his thoughts by the sudden scraping sound of wood on stone, as Vanya made all the tables and chairs return to their normal places, and told them to sit down. Harry made his way to his place and sat heavily, stuffing his wand back in his pocket and staring at the worn wood of the table below him.  
  
"Well," Vanya now said, "that's your first lesson in duelling with me over. I hope you learnt something, and I hope you all now see what you are facing in this course. Needless to say, I am very disappointed that, out of 32 students, only four of you actually managed to put up a decent fight. 32 duels in less than twenty minutes. Pathetic. I expected better of you all. Sharpen up, all of you. Next time I won't go easy on you." The class looked incredulously around at eachother as Vanya glared round at them all, before shaking his head slowly.  
  
"Now, it's to the theory; get out your textbooks and read and make notes on chapter two Duelling Techniques. Get to work."  
  
Harry got to work immediately, not looking up once. He could hear his name being said in poorly whispered conversations throughout the room, before Vanya told the class that the next person to speak would have a silencing spell put on them for the rest of the day, and the class promptly shut up.  
  
Harry was grateful for the silence.  
  
After an hour he finished making notes, and sat in silence until Vanya told everyone to put their quills down.  
  
"That concludes today's lesson," Vanya said, as people shut their textbooks and put away their quills. "Homework; look up and learn ten spells appropriate for duelling combat, and make a list of what spells you have learnt, and how long it took you to perfect each one. Work in pairs, but you need ten spells each, not ten between two. You will be performing them on eachother next Wednesday. For this Wednesday we will be duelling again, but this time you will be duelling eachother. Class dismissed."  
  
Harry told Ron and Hermione to wait for him, and walked up to Vanya's desk as the rest of the class filtered out, prepared to defend himself for whatever it was Vanya thought he had done wrong in his duelling.  
  
As soon as the last student had left the room, Vanya conjured a chair on the other side of his desk. Harry sat, and Vanya steepled his hands on his desk, which Harry noticed were potmarked with small scars. He glared at Harry over the top of them.  
  
"Mr Potter," he said quietly, his eyes looking directly into Harry's, although Harry could not feel him attempting legilimency, "if you do what you did today again, I am going to ban you from this class."  
  
"What?" said Harry, confused and outraged, "why? What I have done? I didn't do anything wrong, I did better than anyone else!"  
  
"Yes, you did do better than anyone else," Vanya said, stopping Harry mid-rant, "but even though you performed better than I expected, it was not your best. I could tell that you were holding yourself back during the duel, and I will not accept it. I expect everyone in this class to perform to the best of their ability, to give me 100% every single lesson, and you did not give me that today. So I say to you again; Harry Potter or not, if you slack in my lessons again, I will ban you from this class."  
  
"Slacking?" said Harry. "I wasn't slacking!"  
  
"Were you performing to the best of your ability?" Vanya said swiftly.  
  
"No, but I. ."  
  
"Then you were slacking, Mr Potter."  
  
"I have my reasons for not 'performing to the best of my ability,' Sir," growled Harry.  
  
"Which are?" Vanya prompted.  
  
"I. ." Harry glanced around the large classroom, with the door wide open, and with Vanya's eyes fixed intensely on his.  
  
"I can't tell you."  
  
"Then I am afraid I cannot let you continue in my class."  
  
"What? Sir, what does it matter if I'm not doing as well as I could, I'm still doing better than everyone else!"  
  
"Yes, but you are not working to the best of your ability."  
  
"What does that matter, as long as I get an 'Outstanding' grade in the exams, what does it matter if I don't perform amazingly in class?"  
  
"Because you will be always holding yourself back, and that could have negative effects on your talents when you are not holding yourself back, outside of my lessons."  
  
"Sir, come on, can't we come to an arrangement or something?"  
  
"No, Mr Potter. You either perform to the best of your abilities, or I ban you from my class."  
  
"What if you speak to Professor Dumbledore about it? I'm sure he can explain to you my reasons for holding back. Will you speak to him?" Harry pleaded.  
  
Professor Vanya leant back in his chair and scratched his chin, evidently thinking, and giving Harry a calculating look as he did so. After a few minutes, he spoke.  
  
"Tell me, Mr Potter, are you holding back because of me?" Harry looked at him.  
  
"You, Professor?" he said, and shook his head. "No, not you. Someone else." Vanya scratched his chin again for a few minutes before speaking again.  
  
"Then I feel that I may have a solution to this. Are you free tomorrow night, at eight o'clock?"  
  
"I think so, Sir."  
  
"Good. Then meet me here, and we will try and settle this little problem. Now, I've kept you too long. Go make a start on those chapter notes before your next lesson." Harry nodded, shouldered his bag and made his way to the door. Just as he was about to leave, Harry turned and asked Vanya a question.  
  
"Professor? What are we going to do tomorrow night?"  
  
Vanya looked up from his desk, and smiled.  
  
"We are going to duel."  
  
Harry found Ron, Hermione, and, suprisingly, Neville, waiting for him at the end of the corridor leading to the DADA classroom as he emerged after finishing talking to Vanya. Apparently Ron had cornered him to demand how he had done so well against Vanya, and Harry, wanting to know as well, asked him, making Neville grin sheepishly.  
  
"I've been practicing duelling over the summer," he said, as they walked quickly up the stairs to Transfiguration, "only on how to jump around and dodge spells though, I couldn't practice actual spells out of school. I only lasted longer than most people because I'm good at dodging, not because I'm good at proper duelling."  
  
"You still did well though, Neville," said Hermione defensively, making Neville smile and mutter thanks to her. "So did you, Ron," she said, smiling at him, and Ron tried not to look smug as he turned to Harry.  
  
"Did you see me hit Vanya hit with that disarming charm?" he said proudly, and, Harry, completely thrown by this, stared at Ron incredulously.  
  
"You hit him as well?" he said, and Ron nodded smugly.  
  
"Didn't you see? Yeah, I got him after about ten seconds. Probably a fluke I reckon, considering I was laying on the floor when I fired it, but I'm still proud of it. I mean, remember what Vanya's job is?" he said, glancing sideways at Neville quickly, "and I still got a hit on him!" Harry nodded.  
  
"Yeah, well done. How did you do Hermione?" he asked, and Hermione glowed.  
  
"I didn't actually hit him, but Professor Vanya said I was one of the best in the class. He said I had the perfect temperament of patience and calculation for a duellist, and had excellent manuevouring." Harry smiled at her, and nearly tripped up the stairs in doing so. Ron turned to him.  
  
"Anyway Harry, how come you did so well in there? That was bloody brilliant!"  
  
"Well, I've been having lessons all summer, haven't I?" he said, "I picked a few things up from that."  
  
"More than a few things," said Neville, grinning, "that double-spell thing you did when you hit him was amazing!"  
  
"And that blocking movement you did with your wand," Hermione said, looking keenly at Harry, "is that a spell, or is that just part of the magical atmosphere of your wand that deflected the spell? Or was it. ."  
  
"I got told it was something to do with the 'magical signature' or something, of your wand and the magic inside of you," Harry interrupted her, and Hermione nodded, as if this made sense to her, which it certainly didn't to Harry. "And can we stop with this 'Harry's great' rubbish now? I didn't do that well." Ron, Hermione and Neville shook their heads at him, grinning, but were forced to stop telling him how well he had done as they had now reached the Transfiguration classroom, and were ten minutes late.  
  
Transfiguration passed uneventfully for Harry. Professor McGonagall warned them on the dangers of taking it easy because there were still two years before the NEWT exams, reminding them that it was a two-year course, and that there would be assessments throughout the year that would count towards their final grade. She then spent forty-five minutes describing the course in intricate detail, referring them to what seemed to Harry like an entire library full of books for background reading, and lectured them about staying focused at all times.  
  
"So much for Christmas, then," muttered Ron, as he and Harry copied down the course aims and objectives from the board. "'Stay focused at all times!" he said angrily, "why doesn't she just move all our beds into the bloody classroom?" Harry muttered his agreement, and Hermione sighed and shook her head at them. When the bell went, signaling the end of the lesson and breaktime, Harry was the first one to the door.  
  
"What's your hurry?" said Ron in suprise, as he and Hermione rushed to catch up with Harry, "it's breaktime now!"  
  
"I've got to go the library," Harry explained, and began to walk quickly down the corridor. Ron suddenly sprinted past him and stood in Harry's way, his mouth wide open.  
  
"To the library?" he said incredulously, "at breaktime? On the first day of term? What's up with you?" he said, his voice going squeaky at the end. Harry looked up at him.  
  
"I reckoned I'd get a headstart on Snape's lesson," he said, having come up with this excuse in Transfiguration. "You know, I'm in that class by a thread, I reckon I should make sure I can take anything Snape throws at me."  
  
"Good idea Harry!" said Hermione, beaming at him, "I'm glad you're taking this seriously. Do you want some company? I'm sure I can do some more background reading. After all, you can never do too much!" Ron turned to her now the look on his face showing that he thought the entire world had gone insane.  
  
"Er. .no, it's alright Hermione, you go relax with Ron, it's alright."  
  
"But Ron can come do some as well! Yeah, me and Ron can start on our homework for Professor Vanya!" Ron's eyes widened in alarm, and he backed away and shook his head helplessly. "Come on Ron," she said, grabbing his arm.  
  
"No, it's fine!" said Harry, in a high voice that made Ron and Hermione stop and stare at him. He cleared his throat. "No, it's fine, alright? I'll see you in next lesson."  
  
And with that Harry turned and strode quickly along the corridor and to the Hogwarts library.  
  
He quickly found the Spell Construction section of the library, and got to work looking for books. As he did so, he saw Madam Pince nod approvingly at him out of the corner of his eye.  
  
After fifteen minutes of looking, Harry had found twenty three books that he thought would help him prepare for his lessons with Dumbledore, and he reckoned there was probably loads more in the Restricted Section. Maybe Dumbledore will let me in there to look. . .  
  
Harry shook his head and glanced down at his watch, seeing that there was only five minutes until the end of break. He shook his head again; he wasn't going to be able to start researching now, and he couldn't possibly carry all the books around with him. In the end Harry simply rearranged the Spell Construction section so that all his books were on the same shelf next to eachother, ready for when he came back at lunchtime.  
  
Dumbledore had given him this chance to start the work on the spell for the Line of the Protectors now, and, Harry thought with determination, remembering the names of the innocent children who had died yesterday at platform nine and three quarters, he wasn't going to waste it.  
  
Charms, like Transfiguration, passed uneventfully, with the exception of Ron and Hermione making Harry feel guilty for leaving them so suddenly, and Professor Flitwick falling backwards off the pile of books he always stood on in lessons, the topmost book actually having little footholds in it's cover now, having been so worn in. Flitwick, like McGonagall, lectured them on the dangers of taking it easy because they didn't have exams this year, and warned them he would be frequently testing their skills, after which he promptly tested them to see that their Charms OWL results were deserved.  
  
"What a day," said Ron wearily, as Flitwick finished testing him on banishing charms and moved on to Terry Boot across the room. "First duelling with Vanya, then McGonagall harping on for god knows how long, and then a Charms OWL repeat! Why couldn't they just, for once, give us an easy Monday?"  
  
"An easy Monday!" said Harry, and laughed dryly. "Who's ever heard of one of them?" Hermione sighed.  
  
"You two really do exaggerate, you know," said Hermione. She had beaten her OWL result in Charms by almost a quarter in Flitwick's testing, and was now making notes in her new textbook. Harry turned to her.  
  
"We don't exaggerate!" he said, and Ron nodded in support. Hermione snorted in disbelief.  
  
"It's only school, you know, just lessons."  
  
"Yeah, well, they're hard!" said Ron emphatically, "especially on a Monday!"  
  
Hermione did not respond, but laid down her quill and looked oddly at the two of them. Ron gave her a pointed look and made a motion with his hands, as if waiting for a comeback. When she said nothing, he looked confused.  
  
"You know," she finally said (Ron looked relieved), "I find it ridiculous that, after everything we've done from first year, the thing that you two complain about most is schoolwork." Harry and Ron looked at eachother, confused at Hermione's deep thoughts, and shrugged simultaneously. Hermione laughed quietly, and smiled at them. Ron again looked confused at this, and Hermione gave him a strange look before returning her attention to her textbook and quill. Harry and Ron gave another shrug, and started playing hangman on a corner of Harry's parchment.  
  
When the lunchtime bell rang, Harry and Ron both breathed hugely over- exaggerated sighs of relief, making Hermione both shake her head in exasperation and smile at them affectionately, and the three of them packed up quickly and made for the Great Hall for lunch, where Ron dove into his food dramatically, as if he hadn't eaten in months.  
  
"Pell Construson after lunch," said Ron through a huge mouthful of beef casserole, and Hermione gave him a disgusted look over the rim of her goblet of pumpkin juice and turned to Harry.  
  
"Didn't you say that Professor Thorlaug is your teacher from the summer?" she said quietly, glancing around, and Harry nodded.  
  
"Yeah, Nate Gonzales. You both met him yesterday at. .well, you met him yesterday." Hermione's face looked suddenly stricken at the mention of yesterday, and Ron, seeing this, swallowed his mouthful immediately, in what looked to Harry like a very painful move, and tried to move the conversation quickly along.  
  
"Uh, so, Harry," he said hastily, glancing anxiously at Hermione, "is he an alright bloke, this Nate Gonzales? Good teacher? He's not another Snape, is he?" Harry laughed, but Hermione still looked stricken. He plunged on quickly.  
  
"Um, nah, he's not like Snape, he's a nice person. And yeah, he's a good teacher. He does get a bit strange when he's teaching though, compared to how he is the rest of the time. He's like, I dunno, really serious. He's not mean like Snape though."  
  
"Is he like Vanya?" Ron prompted quickly, and nodded at Hermione. "You was right about him, Hermione, when you said you reckoned he was going to be intense. I can't believe he called us kids; what a prick! and he could have given us a chance in those duels, couldn't he? Saying he was disappointed in us. . what did he expect, sixth year Hogwarts students are going to be able to duel properly with fully-trained Aurors? What an idiot. . ."  
  
"Ron!" said Hermione sharply, "don't insult him like that! That was only our first lesson!" Ron shrugged, and muttered "I was only joking," but he looked glad that Hermione was now feeling well enough to have a go at him. "At least I got her to smile," he said under his breath to Harry, who shared a private grin with him. Hermione glanced around again.  
  
"What does Nate do then, Harry?" she said, looking curious."I mean, do you know what job he had before he decided to be a Hogwarts teacher?" Harry swallowed, not exactly in the mood to let all hell break loose by telling Ron and Hermione that Nate was a Hitwizard the rest of the time he wasn't doing his Order duties.  
  
"Er, I'll tell you later. I've got to get back to the library now, do some more research for Potions." Ron stared at him.  
  
"Again?" he said. "Harry, it's the first day of term, will you just relax?" Hermione glared at Ron, and Harry smiled.  
  
"I can't, I've got too much to do. I'll see you in Spell Construction, alright?" he said, as he stood up and shouldered his bag.  
  
"What have you done with the real Harry?" he heard Ron shout after him as he left, and Harry grinned.  
  
"You're a minute late," grinned Ron, as Harry came running up to the old Transfiguration classroom that was now the Spell Construction classroom. "Lucky 'Mr Serious' isn't here yet."  
  
"Yeah," Harry panted, vaguely thinking that the running he had started doing in the summer was good for getting around Hogwarts as well as fighting Death Eaters. "Why are you two still outside?" he said, noticing that they were the the only three people in the entire corridor.  
  
"We were waiting for you," said Hermione, and Ron nodded. "Can't let you bound in looking like an idiot, can we?" he said, grinning.  
  
"Most certainly not," said a voice from down the corridor, and the three of them spun around, Harry drawing his wand quickly as he did. He lowered it when he saw who it was, and smiled.  
  
"Hello, Professor Thorlaug," said Harry, grinning as "Professor Thorlaug" walked down the corridor towards him, "Professor Thorlaug" actually being Harry's Duelling Techniques teacher Nate Gonzales in disguise. He smiled as he reached the trio, and nodded at Harry, as if he was meeting him for the first time.  
  
"Mr Potter. I've heard great things about you." His smile widened, and he shook Harry's hand, before averting his gaze from Harry to Ron and Hermione, standing awkwardly at Harry's side.  
  
"And this must be Miss Granger," he said, extending his hand to her, which she shook nervously, although Harry remembered her meeting him yesterday. "'The smart friend that everyone's always going on about', wasn't it?" he said, and Hermione cheeks went pink. Thorlaug then turned to Ron.  
  
"And this must be Mr Weasley, the "lanky redhead" that won Gryffindor the Quidditch Cup last year," he said, shaking his hand as well, "well done." Ron's ears went red, and Thorlaug grinned at him, before clapping his hands together suddenly, making Harry, Ron and Hermione jump.  
  
"Right then," he said, "let's get to class. And remember, Mr Potter," he said quietly, "to address me as Professor Thorlaug." Harry nodded at him, grinning, and "Thorlaug" nodded to Ron and Hermione. "I doubt you two will have any problem." Ron and Hermione nodded in agreement, both still looking flushed from the compliments he had given them.  
  
"You three go in first," Thorlaug said, "can't let you bound in looking like idiots, can I?" Harry, Ron and Hermione smiled, and entered the classroom, taking seats at the only table that was left. Harry noticed, to his irritation, that their table was to the left of the table which Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle were sitting at. Harry gritted his teeth; had Malfoy chosen every subject that he had?  
  
Malfoy sneered at them as they sat down in their seats, and Harry and Ron glared back at him. Harry noticed that, when Ron glared at him, Crabbe turned hastily away. Harry smirked. Hermione was busy getting out her equipment for the lesson, and was paying no attention to Malfoy or his bodyguards. Harry and Ron reluctantly followed suit, and a minute later, Professor Thorlaug walked into the room, the smile he had worn when speaking to Harry, Ron and Hermione gone from his face, replaced with a expression of utmost seriousness. He walked to the front of the classroom and began pacing up and down, wand in hand, looking down at them as he did so. After a minute he stopped pacing and stood facing them with his arms crossed, looking a very threatening figure with his long hair and severe red moustache and beard, and his hard blue eyes looking down seriously at them.  
  
"Welcome to NEWT level Spell Construction," he began, and Harry was startled to find that he was speaking in a strong, loud voice, quite unlike Nate Gonzales' usual quiet and levelled way of speaking. "This subject is new to Hogwarts this year, and I am glad that there has been such excellent appreciation and interest in it," he said, looking round at the fifteen or so students in the room.  
  
"This course will be unlike any of you have ever studied," Thorlaug continued. "The nature of the subject of Spell Construction is such that it would be impossible to teach you in the usual manner in which you are accustomed to being taught, so, instead, my role here will be to be your guider, and not your teacher. Much of the course demands that you learn the subject by yourself, through your own mistakes and corrections. I can teach you the basics of Spell Construction, and the textbook can help you, but only to a certain extent; simply using the textbook and my teachings will not get you an 'Outstanding' grade in your NEWTs; indeed, you will struggle to even get an 'Exceeds Expectations'. What will get you the high marks is the ability to perfect this subject through personal practice, patience, dedication, mistakes and corrections, with me acting as your guide along the way, helping you along when both you and I see fit for me to do so." Thorlaug stared at them for a second,  
  
"Spell Construction is the study of, obviously, constructing spells from scratch, and this is a vastly difficult and complicated process. There are many areas of study involved in creating a spell, which can be split into five, shall we say, aspects; the language aspect, the element aspect, the signature aspect, the atmosphere aspect, and, of course, the magical aspect. You will be learning about all five, and you will need a perfected and extensive knowledge of these aspects before you can progress on to creating your own spells.  
  
"There will also be a large element of research in your Spell Construction studies. You will be researching famous spell constructors of the past, and will be studying both their methods and their personal diaries, diaries which detail the spell-making process in a way that you will find most valuable, and, in addition to your studies of the five aspects, you will be doing additional research to assist you in these studies, and to give you a more thorough background knowledge of Spell Construction in general.  
  
"I need scarcely say that these studies will take up most of this year. The subject of Spell Construction is vast, and as such you will only be learning a small percentage of it's study at NEWT level, for it would be impossible for me to teach you much more, even if your lessons with me were doubled. Indeed, the beginnings of Spell Construction that I will teach you, that is the background knowledge and five aspects, will take up much of this year, and so if some of you came to this class thinking of it as a quick way to be able to create your own spells, think again. Creating a spell requires a highly dignified knowledge (and perfection) of the basics of Spell Construction, which alone will take you at least to the end of the Easter term. If I feel then that you are efficient enough to begin work on creating your own spells, I will consider letting you do so, perhaps on creating minor spells for small injuries or something, but, otherwise, you will be taught in a traditional classroom manner. It will not be until next year, your NEWT year, that my role as a guider, and your role as a student perfecting yourself through your own mistakes, will really come into play. Now then, let's get started." He cleared his throat, making the class jump as the sound echoed through the classroom.  
  
"Now," he said, "let me ask you a quick question; what spells do you think it would be useful to create?"  
  
Several students put their hands up, and professor Thorlaug indicated that Terry Boot should answer the question. Hermione, who had been bobbing up and down in her seat with her hand in the air trying to get noticed, slowly put her hand down, looking disappointed.  
  
"A spell to organise my schoolwork would be nice," he said thoughtfully, and Harry heard Malfoy snort derisively from across the room. Terry reddened, and Thorlaug asked, "anyone else?" Several hands shot up again, and Thorlaug answered them one by one.  
  
"A spell to shut people up."  
  
"A spell that helps you detect where the Snitch is."  
  
"A spell that makes it hot all year round."  
  
"A spell that makes teachers give you top marks."  
  
"A spell that does your homework for you!" said Ron, and the class laughed. Thorlaug put up a hand to silence it.  
  
"Yes yes, these all sound like useful spells," he said, the look on his face showing he thought nothing of the sort. "But can anyone come up with anything less. .trivial?"  
  
A lot less hands went up this time, but Harry and Ron put their hands up, as did, suprisingly, Neville. Thorlaug nodded at him to answer the question.  
  
"A spell that can detect people using the unforgivable curses," he said quietly, and Harry immediately turned to look at Malfoy, ready to rip him to pieces if he even made a nasty expression on his face. Malfoy however, after glancing at Harry for a second, wisely did nothing, and Harry returned his gaze to Neville. Thorlaug was now nodding at him, his blue eyes hard.  
  
"Yes, they've been attempting to create that one for years," he said, his voice hard and unemotional, and then pointed to Hermione, who still had her hand raised. "Go on then," he said.  
  
"A spell to detect if someone's under the Imperius Curse," she said grimly, and Thorlaug nodded again.  
  
"Another one they've been trying to crack," he muttered. He nodded at Ron. "What about you, Mr Weasley?"  
  
"A spell that detects who's a Death Eater and who's not," he said, and looked pointedly across the room at Malfoy, who looked defiantly back at him. Thorlaug nodded at him.  
  
"A fine choice, although there are already many ways to discover if somebody is a Death Eater or not. What about you, Mr Potter?"  
  
"A spell that will keep the prisoners of Azkaban locked up, now that the Dementors have left it," he said, and Thorlaug nodded. Lavender Brown let out a little cry, and many of the students turned to look at Harry, fear in their faces. Those he made eye contact with turned away quickly.  
  
"You'll have to talk to the Ministry yourself about that one," he said, frowning, "all they're relying on at the moment to keep the scum inside is the walls, the sea, and a few weak imprisonment charms." He lapsed into silence for a minute, as if in deep thought, before seeming to come to his senses by shaking his head.  
  
"Enough of this," he said, uncrossing his arms and moving around his desk, "let's get to work. Please turn to page fourteen; 'an introduction to the complexities of Spell Construction.'"  
  
The class passed quickly after that, as they made notes on and discussed the introduction of the textbook to Spell Construction, and before Harry knew it the bell had gone, and everyone was packing up their things and leaving. He left with Ron and Hermione, and as they walked out of the door and into the corridor, they found Malfoy and his thugs waiting for them. He was glaring at Harry, who glared right back, and put a hand on his wand, ready to draw it at a moment's notice, willing Malfoy to start something, so he could rip him apart again for what he had said yesterday. . Hermione put a hand on his arm, and did the same with Ron.  
  
"So Potter," he said softly, "I didn't realise you felt so strongly about the prisoners of Azkaban escaping."  
  
Harry said nothing.  
  
"What, the prisoners of Azkaban which include your scumbag of a dad?" Ron interrupted, his hands balled into fists, and Malfoy turned to stare at him, but made no move to attack.  
  
"Yes, I mean my father as well," he said quietly, and then turned back to Harry. "They'll be out soon, Potter. We all know that. And then you'll wish you'd never been born."  
  
Harry moved forwards towards Malfoy, shrugging Hermione's hand off, and felt a twinge of satisfaction when Malfoy took a stumbling step backwards. Ron sniggered.  
  
"What's the matter, scared I'm going to hit you again?" Harry said, and Malfoy's grey eyes stared hatefully at him. Harry bent down, being taller than Malfoy now, and said, "if your father, or any one of those scum, tries to do anything against me that I think you had some part in, you won't just wish you were dead, you will be dead. Understood?"  
  
Malfoy said nothing, but simply continued to stare at Harry. Harry felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see Hermione there, looking angry. Ron, behind her, was staring at Harry strangely. Harry allowed her to pull him away from Malfoy, and the three of them walked down into a unused corridor, before Hermione rounded on Harry.  
  
"What did you do that for?" she said, her eyes blazing.  
  
"Sorry. Do you think I went too far?" he said, and Hermione's eyes blazed even brighter. Harry took a step backwards.  
  
"Too far?" she shrieked. "You threatened to kill him! Do you know how much trouble you can get in for that?" Harry took another step backwards, but folded his arms defiantly.  
  
"I'm not apologising for it," he said firmly, and Hermione made a growl of frustration in her throat.  
  
"Hermione, lay off him will you?" said Ron, coming to stand next to Harry. "Malfoy's always winding us up, and we've all lost it with him at one time or another. Even you did in third year."  
  
"Yes, but none of us have ever threatened to kill him before!" she said, her eyes still blazing. But then Harry saw them visibly soften, and she said quietly, "it was scary, Harry. You. .you looked really serious about it. Like you actually would kill him."  
  
Harry felt it would be better at this moment to not tell Hermione the truth. He couldn't honestly say to Hermione that he wouldn't kill Draco Malfoy; if Lucius Malfoy did anything to the Weasley's, or Hermione's parents, or even the Dursley's (which, in Harry's opinion, was the only way he could make him wish he'd never been born), he wasn't sure what he would do to him. So he decided to lie.  
  
"Of course I wouldn't kill him," he said softly, taking a step towards her. "Do you believe me?" Hermione nodded slowly, looking close to tears, and then she suddenly bounded forwards and pulled Harry into a tight hug, crying into his shoulder. Harry froze, and looked over her head at Ron, who shrugged helplessly.  
  
After a while Hermione released him, wiping her tears on her sleeve fiercely, and mumbled, "being stupid," presumably to herself. She then turned to the two of them and said, "sorry about that. I'm not having an easy time of it at the moment. You know, I haven't seen you both all summer, and, and after everything that happened yesterday at the plat. .platform, and then you threatening to kill Malfoy and all, I just. . ." she trailed off. She looked so alone and small in front of the two of them, sniffling like a little girl, and Harry and Ron looked at eachother, nodded in resigned agreement, and, after taking deep breaths, moved forwards to envelope her in a three-way hug. Hermione uttered a small cry of suprise as they did so, and then clung to the two of them tightly, as if scared that if she let them go they might dissappear. Harry and Ron gave eachother alarmed looks over her head. After a while she released them, and looked at their faces and laughed weepily.  
  
"You two are so awkward," she said, smiling through her tears, before wiping them away again. "Come on, let's go to the library and get started on professor Vanya's homework," she said determidly, and began striding down the corridor. As Harry and Ron jogged to catch up with her they grinned at eachother and, for once, didn't complain about going to the library straight after class.  
  
Wonder what Hagrid wants to talk about, Harry wondered, as he struggled through the deep mud left over from the monstrous storm the night before. He had seen Hagrid at dinner, and he had said that could he come to his hut by himself tonight, instead of with Ron and Hermione, because what he wanted to talk about was 'top secret'.  
  
As he made his way down the lawn to Hagrid's hut, Harry looked over at the Forbidden Forest and shivered, remembering the strange behaviour of the Thestrals since he had arrived at Hogwarts. He couldn't understand why they had been behaving so strangely; always staring at him, even flying above the Forbidden Forest to stare at him; what was up with that? he wondered.  
  
He hadn't told Ron or Hermione about the Thestrals staring at him yet, or about seeing them above the Forest that morning; he couldn't really, considering that he wasn't going to tell them that he had slept outside last night. There was no point, really, he already knew what their reactions would be; Ron would laugh at him, and become worried in his own way, and Hermione would bite her lip and be openly concerned, and probably find it hard to sleep at night, wondering when he was going to just jump out of bed and sleep outside in his Cloak. Yeah right I'm doing that again, he said to himself, sneezing again, as he had been doing all day; he knew sleeping outside in Scotland in September had been a bad idea; now he had a evil cold, and made a note to go see Madam Pomfrey as soon as he could, for some pepper-up potion.  
  
Harry shook his head to bring his trailing thoughts back to reality, and realized he was now approaching Hagrid's hut, and that the bottom of his robes and his boots were now covered in mud. Hagrid won't mind the mud, he thought, and knocked hard on his front door.  
  
As he had a few times before, Harry found himself face to face with a crossbow when Hagrid's door was opened, but when Hagrid saw who it was, he lowered it immediately.  
  
"All righ' Harry?" he said happily, patting Harry on the shoulder, making him stumble heavily, but luckily avoiding falling to the floor. "Come on in, we'll get goin' in a minute."  
  
"Get going?" said Harry, bewildered, as he thought off Fang, who had jumped on him as soon as he'd walked through the door. "What do you mean, 'get going'? Where are we going?"  
  
Hagrid looked at Harry as if he was mad.  
  
"Where d'ya think we're goin'?" he said, "the Forest, o' course. Now, how was yer holiday?"  
  
"Why are we going in the Forest?" said Harry quickly. "It's not something to do with Grawp, is it?"  
  
At the mention of Hagrid's giant half-brother, Hagrid seemingly forgot all about Harry's summer holiday, and broke into an enormous grin, his face swelling with pride, and his beetle black eyes looking suspiciously bright as he looked at Harry.  
  
"Aw, yeh should see him now, Harry," he said, his eyes glazing over, "he's learn' loads now, he can talk proper english and everythin' . . asks me fer stuff, yer know, an' he an' Fang love eachother! An' he keeps askin' for someone called 'Hermy!' I thin' little Grawpy's go' a crush!"  
  
Harry grinned, anticipating Hermione's face when he told her that, before saying uncertainly, "er, we're not going to see him tonight though, are we, Hagrid?"  
  
"Eh? O', no', not tonight, we're doing summat else tonight. If yer wan' though, I can' take yer ter see 'im tomorrow."  
  
"Er. .we'll see," said Harry, kicking himself for dropping himself in it. "So then, what are we doing tonight?"  
  
Hagrid's face became serious, the motherly expression he had had when talking about Grawp fading away, and he said, "Dumbledore's had word, from Firenze. Apparently the Thestrals wan' ter see yer."  
  
Harry froze.  
  
He remembered how the Thestrals had stared at him since he had arrived at Hogwarts this year, how they had been hovering above the Forest that morning, staring at him, and how he had wondered what they were doing. . .now, he was finally going to get an answer. .he shook his head.  
  
"The Thestrals want to see me?" he said, looking at Hagrid. His stomach suddenly felt strange. "Why?" Hagrid shrugged.  
  
"Don' ask me, all I know is that they do," he said, and stood up suddenly. "Come on, we'd betta be' off."  
  
"But. .but why?"stammered Harry.  
  
"I told yer, Harry, I don' know. Come on Fang!" he said, opening the door, and Fang barked loudly and rushed past him.  
  
"But. .but. ."  
  
"Look, Harry," said Hagrid, fitting a quiver of arrows for his crossbow over his enormous moleskin coat, "I don' know anythin' more than you do. All I know is that the Thestrals want ter see yer, and I'm suppos' ter take yer. And we're goin' ter be late if we don' get a move on', so hurry up."  
  
Harry followed Hagrid out of the cabin, shutting the door behind him, and jogged to catch up with him. The sun was beginning to go down now, and the rain clouds had disappeared, being replaced with a colourful sunset, that had turned the sky blood-red.  
  
Harry caught up with Hagrid as he took his first step inside the Forest, and Hagrid looked down at him, smiled, and said, "sorry if I was o bit' rude inside, Harry. It's jus' I was expecting you a bit earlier, and I was worried we wouldn't be ther' on' time if we chatted any longer."  
  
"Well why do we have to be there at a specific time?" Harry said. "Is it like some big meeting of Thestrals, or something?"  
  
"No idea," said Hagrid. Harry's stomach did enough flip.  
  
"What do you think they want me for then, Hagrid?" he said. "I mean, it's not like they can talk to me or anything." Hagrid scratched his bearded chin, seemingly in thought, before speaking.  
  
"I'm no' sure," he said, still scratching his chin, "the only connection I can' think of that ye'd hav' with em' is the fact that you and yer friends rode some of 'em ter the Ministry las' year. Although," Hagrid said, a sad smile gracing his face, "everything does seem ter happen te you, dosen' it?"  
  
Harry remembered him saying the same thing when he had been entered against his will for the Triwizard Tournament, and he smiled bitterly. "Yeah, it does," he said quietly. Hagrid patted him on the shoulder, and Harry, while stumbling to stay upright, walked face-first into a tree, or what he had thought was a tree, until he realised it was Hagrid's hand, who had put his hand out to stop Harry without turning around.  
  
"Ow," said Harry, rubbing his nose, before Hagrid said sharply, "ssshhh!"  
  
Harry stopped complaining, and moved to the side to look in front of Hagrid. He saw that they had come to a dead end; directly in front of them was an enormous oak tree, with a base that curved round them to their left and right, and above this were thick, impenetrable vines. In the centre of this curved base stood a lone Thestral.  
  
The Thestral looked somewhat older to Harry than the Thestrals he had previously seen, but also much larger than any he had seen. It seemed to have numerous scars on it's torso, and it's black leathery wings looked fragile, as if they were going to snap any second. It's hooves seemed to be damaged somewhat, and it's legs were skinnier than any horse or Thestral he had ever seen. It's pupiless eyes were fixed on Harry.  
  
Harry made no move to move towards it, and Hagrid was looking uncertainly between Harry and the Thestral. After a minute, in which Harry and the old Thestral stared into eachother's eyes, the old Thestral began to move forward towards them, until it was less than a foot away from Harry, and their eyes were level. What happened next nearly made Harry faint.  
  
"Potter," it hissed croakily. 


	9. Chapter nine: Lionheart

_Harry Potter and the Path of War_

_Chapter Nine: Lionheart_

"Potter," it hissed croakily, and Harry took a step backwards, his jaw dropping and his mouth working soundlessly as he did so. He gazed in immense shock at the grand Thestral across from him, which looked nonplussed by Harry's reaction to it speaking, and whose eyes were still fixed on his. Harry collected himself and took a hesitant step forwards.

"You. .you just. .I mean you can. .I can't believe you just . . .you. .you can _talk_?" Harry stammered to the Thestral, who shook it's reptillian head at him.

"I cannot understand you," it hissed at him, taking it's own step fowards towards Harry, who took another step backwards. "You must speak to me in the Language of the Snakes."

Realisation washed over Harry, and he let out a deep breath, feeling a strange sense of relief in his stomach at the Thestral's words. So _that _was why the Thestrals had wanted to talk to him; because he was a Parseltongue!

Harry let out a deep sigh of relief. He had been worried that the Thestrals had wanted to see him because he was '_Harry Potter_', because they needed him to do something for them, and he felt immensely relived that that _wasn't_ the case. _I'm the only one they can talk to, _Harry now realised. _It would sound just like hissing to anyone else._

Harry looked closely at the old Thestral before him now, trying to see it as one big giant snake, taking away the horse legs and flattening it onto the ground, with it's black hide becoming the smooth black scaly skin of a Snake. . .

"What do you want to talk to me about?" Harry said, and instead of speaking in normal English his words came out in a series of hissings, his throat tickling as they did so.

The ancient Thestral ambled slowly forwards towards Harry, it's legs creaking horribly as it did so, until it was so close that Harry could see straight into it's white and staring eyes, which were still locked on him. This was disturbing to Harry, not only because it's eyes seemed to look straight through him, but because it was roughly the same height as Harry, making it a _six foot tall Thestral._ Harry swallowed, praying that the creature didn't turn on him. It would be a hard fight, even if he _did _have his wand; just because he _had _it, it didn't necessarily mean he'd be able to get to it to use it.

Up close, Harry could see clearly the age of the thing; there were deep lines etched into it's face, as if it had more worries and cares than most human beings. There were patches of it's hide missing from it's torso, which was scarred and weather-beaten. One scar ran down from the top of the Thestral's head to half way down the length of the Thestral's body.

Harry shook his head, to stop gawping at the condition of the old Thestral. Despite it's weather-beaten body it seemed to Harry that the grand Thestral possessed an aura of dignity and command, as if it was a Prince or something. The Thestral's eyes seemed to light up clearer as Harry repeated his question.

"What do you want to talk to me about?" he said again, and the Thestral took another step forwards. Harry noticed disconcertingly that they were around the same sight, feeling disturbed that _any _Thestral could be that tall. The Thestral locked his eyes on Harry's.

"I wish to speak to you about a number of things," it said to him now, and Harry took a step backwards, as Thestral salivia went all over him as the old Thestral hissed. "But first I must bid you to please tell Hagrid that this meeting is between you and me only, and that you will meet him when we are finished. Also, please thank him on behalf of my race for the love and hospitality hr has shown my race for over fifty years."

Harry started; he had completely forgotten that Hagrid was there with them as well, having been so shocked by the Thestral speaking. He turned around now, to see Hagrid staring down at him with a gobsmacked expression on his face.

"Blimey Harry," he said hoarsely. "Are yeh _talkin' _to im'? In Parseltongue?"

Harry nodded, and Hagrid began to bob up and down with suppressed excitement, prompting Harry to quickly relay the message the Thestral had given him before Hagrid could get _too _excited.

"Ah that's alright," Hagrid said, waving one of his enormous hands dismissively as Harry told him of the Thestral's thanks for his love and hospitality over the years. He stepped forwards and bowed low to the old Thestral, who in return bent it's front legs and bowed back to Hagrid. Hagrid turned back to Harry.

"Tell 'im that it was my pleasure teh look after such wonderful creatures," he said, and Harry promised that he would. Hagrid pointed to the cluster of trees that they had emerged into the dead-end path of the Thestral from earlier.

"I'll meet yeh over there when yeh done talkin', alright Harry? Dunno why I can' jus' stay," he grumbled, "it all sounds like ruddy hissing teh me anyway."

He walked off into the cluster of trees, dissappearing from sight and leaving Harry with a nervous foreboding feeling in his stomach as he was left alone with the grand Thestral. Taking a deep breath, he turned around back to the creature.

"Hagrid said for me to tell you that it was his pleasure to look after such wonderful creatures," he hissed, and the Thestral pawed the ground gently.

"He is a great man, Hagrid," it hissed back at him. "I fear for him in these dangerous times."

There was a strange uncomfortable silence for a moment, before the Thestral stepped forwards again, making his and Harry's faces nearly touching. Harry slowly took a step backwards. The Thestral did not seem to notice.

"Harry Potter," it hissed at him, bending it's front legs and bowing low to him, as it had done to Hagrid. Harry bowed uncertainly back. "It is my pleasure to finally be meeting you at last. I am Arganual, Chief of the Race of Thestrals. I have been wishing to meet and speak with you for many moons now."

"Why?" hissed Harry, as he came slowly out of his bow. His head was spinning; he was having a _conversation _with a _Thestral_, who wasnamed Arganual, '_Chief of the Race of Thestrals'_, and had been wanting to speak with him for '_many moons'_.

_Am I dreaming? _he thought vaguely, before a sudden blast of wind which rustled the trees around him brought him back to reality. He turned back to the Thestral named Arganual, his head still spinning uncomfortably.

"Why the sudden interest?" he continued in Parseltongue, which was beginning to feel more comfortable. "Why now? I've seen Thestrals _loads _of times in the last year or so, why do you suddenly want to talk to me now?"

"Before we go any further with this," the old Thestral said, "I need for you to seal off this area with silence. Do you no such magic for this?"

Harry faltered. "Er, you mean a Silencing Charm? So no one can hear what we're saying?"

"Yes."

"Uh, yeah, I can do that. Hold on."

Harry withdrew his wand from his pocket and looked around, choosing four trees around their small clearing that he could use for the square area to seal off. Making up his mind what four trees he was going to choose, he walked up to the first one and touched his wand to the bark.

"_Incipio Finium Silentium_," he said, and a light silver thread issued from the end of Harry's wand and touched the tree gently. Harry dipped his wand into this thread, and trailed it (with one end of the thread wrapped around the tree and the other half attached to his wand) to the next tree, which he wrapped the thread around and detached from his wand. The entire thread turned purple as he wrapped it around the tree.

"_Finium Silentium_," he said, and the thread turned back to silver. Again Harry dipped his wand into this thread and trailed it to the next tree, repeating the same incantation before moving on to the last one.

"_Finium Silentium_," he said, making the thread wrapped around the last tree silver as well, and trailed it lightly back to the first tree.

Now Harry and Arganual were enclosed in a square area of glowing silver thread, connected together by four trees. Harry pointed his wand at the thread on the first tree, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

"_Silentium Venustas_," he said firmly, and the entire silver thread glowed bright gold before dissappearing completely. The Silencing Charm had been enacted, and any sound coming from the area that had been enclosed by the silver thread and the four trees was now sealed off to anyone outside of it. _Cheers for teaching me that one, Remus, _Harry thought, remembering how much difficulty he had had remembering the different incantations when he had been learning it.

"There you go," Harry said, feeling a bit drained as he walked back towards Arganual. He did not pocket his wand however, but kept it grasped tightly in his hand, in case Arganual wasn't as friendly as he appeared to be. "No one can hear a word we say. Can we continue now then?

The Chief of the Thestrals raised it's head to the blood-red sky, the crimson red of the sky being reflected clearly in his white eyes.

"We had to be sure of something," he said, his head and eyes still on the sky. "Something that became clear to us in the month of Upopyzius, that you humans refer to as 'June'."

_So Hagrid was right,_ Harry thought, _they want to talk to me because of a connection I made with them when I flew Thestrals to the Ministry last June. _

Harry shook his head violently, quickly expelling the thoughts and feelings of that fateful night to the back of his mind, and concentrated on the white light behind his eyes, which he found after a small struggle. Having effectively cleared his mind, he turned back to Arganual, who was standing silently in front of him with his head still raised to the sky.

"And what was it that became clear to you?" he asked him, and Arganual lowered his eyes from the blood drenched sky and rested them again on Harry.

"That you are indeed Him."

"That I am indeed _who_?"

"That you are _Lionheart_," he said simply. Harry stared.

"I'm _Lionheart_?" he hissed to Arganual, confused. _Was this a nickname or something? _he wondered.

"And what does _that _mean?" he asked Arganual, who bowed to him again, the bottom of his head touching the floor this time as he bowed _very _low. He came out of his bow slowly, and stared at Harry.

"It means that you are _Lionheart_, the High Protector and Guardian of the Great Forest," he hissed. Harry stared at him, hardly believing his own ears.

"You. .you _what_?" he hissed shakily, his stomach churning horribly. He closed his eyes briefly. _Please, not anything else _he pleaded, not really knowing exactly _who_ he was talking to, but wanting an answer nonetheless. _Please don't make more people have to depend on me, _he thought desparately,_ I can't save everyone_. .

No answer came, and Harry sighed in desparation. He turned back to Arganual, who had raised his head to the sky again, exposing a long white scar that trailed down his neck.

"Please explain this to me," Harry hissed to him quietly, and Arganual lowered his eyes and nodded at Harry.

"As you wish," he hissed, and raised his eyes to the sky again.

"There is a tale," he hissed, "that is told to every inhabitant of this Forest from the day of their birth to the day they die. This tale tells of a man named _Lionheart, _a great hero of a man, with a shining sword and a long mane of black hair. It is foretold that this man will come forth at a time of great war, and be the High Protector and Guardian of this Great Forest and of the races within it. He will rally the races of the Forest, it is said, and when the time comes he will lead them into a great battle, a final battle which will decide the fate of the world. It seems to me, and indeed by almost _every _creature of my race, that the great hero _Lionheart _is you."

Harry shook his head, and turned away from Arganual. _Lionheart_! he thought derisvely. _Him, the 'High Protector and Guardian' of the Forbidden Forest? Come on! _The whole idea sounded absurd, he decided. And even if the tale _was _true, it couldn't _possibly _be him. He didn't really have a long mane of black hair, and he _certainly _didn't have a shining sword.

_No, can't be me, _he said to himself, firmly.

And yet. . .

There _were _many signs pointing to it being true, he realised now. He _was _a Parseltongue, making him the only one who could speak with creatures in the Forest. . .the Thestrals _had _sent for him, and they seemed to be sure that he _was _this _Lionheart _bloke. .there was the Prophecy, which had already shown him that he had a critical part to play in the outcome of the War, which he assumed would be in a final battle like the one Arganual had described. . .and then there was the Line of the Protectors. .hold on. . . .'_Line of Protectors_', '_High Protector of the Great Forest_'. . . . might be linked somehow. .I'll ask Dumbledore. .

Harry sighed heavily and sat down on the grass below his feet, holding his head in his hands. He felt like crying and screaming at the same time. Why was it always him? Why was _he _the one who this shit _always _happened to? Why did _he _have to be one that had to kill Voldemort, why did _he _have to be the one who had to train someone to be a murderer, and why did _he _have to be the one who was now responsible for countless creature's lives?

Suddenly Harry stood, turned, and kicked a tree as hard as he could.

"Arrrgggghhhh!!" Harry screamed, feeling as if he was screaming out his soul, his chest aching. He started to punch the tree hard, feeling the rough bark cutting his hands as he did so, but he didn't care. He kicked the tree hard, making intense pain blossoming in his toes through his worn boots, but he welcomed it.

"WHY!!??" he screamed, hitting the tree hard with his now bloody fists. He punctuated every word with a hard punch of the tree, hearing several loud cracks in his hands as he did so. "WHY DOES THIS ALWAYS HAPPEN TO ME!!?? WHY ME? WHY ME FOR FUCKS SAKE? ARRRGGGHHH! WHY? WHY? WHY?"

Harry collapsed to the ground, gripping the roots of the tree he had been hitting with his trembling hands, and began to sob, not heeding the fact that he was in the middle of the Forbidden Forest and a six foot tall Thestral was inches from him.

As he sobbed, whether it was because of his emotional state or not, Harry could swear that the tree roots under his hands were getting warmer, and that the grass beneath his feet was doing the same thing. Looking down, he saw his hands begin to shake by themselves, and he tried to pull them off of the tree roots. He felt his feet do the same thing, and tried to move them as well. Neither would move however, and as the feeling of warmth in his hands and feet began to get uncomfortable, Harry began to panic.

Just as he was about to call to Arganual to help, his hands and feet began to get warmer as well, not just the surface underneath them. He watched in fascination as his hands became warmer and warmer, and then slowly turned colour, from white to yellow to gold. He assumed his feet were doing the same thing.

The warmth intensified almost unbearably under and inside his golden hands and feet, and a sudden shot of intense heat made him cry out in pain. Arganual made no move to help him.

Just as Harry was going to attempt a wandless Reductor Curse at the tree the searing heat suddenly stopped, both in his hands and feet and in the tree and grass beneath him. He successfully wrenched his hands free and moved his feet and sat there panting heavily, looking in wide-eyed shock first at the tree and then at his hands, which had turned back to their normal colour. He pressed his hands to the grass, which was now cool with the evening air, instead of uncomfortably warm as it had been before. He then touched his worn boots with his hands, feeling that they were back to their normal heat. Satisfied that whatever had happened was now over Harry collapsed on to the grass face first, breathing in the fresh coolness of it, his chest aching as he panted heavily because of what had just happened.

After a while he regained his breath, and stood precariously, shaking his hands in front of his face and rubbing them on his robes. He turned to Arganual.

"What was that?" he said shakily, and Arganual turned to look at him (he had been looking at the tree that Harry had been attached to). "Do you know what that was?"

Arganual lowered his reptillian head.

"Yes."

"Well then what was it?" Harry demanded, still shocked beyond doubt. Arganual looked him in the eye.

"It was the Forest. Do you believe in it's power now? Do you believe that you are _Lionheart the Guardian _now?"

Harry stared at him.

"When did I say I didn't believe in it's power? And what, that was the Forest telling me that I'm this _Lionheart_ bloke, the man that's supposed to _lead _you all? And the Forest showed me this by trying to _burn me alive_?"

"The Forest was not burning you alive," Arganual hissed calmly, "it was healing you. Take a closer look at your hands and feet."

Harry started and looked down again at his hands, as he had being doing since he had got them free from the warm tree roots; and then it clicked.

When he had fallen to the floor after screaming his hands had been bloody, and Harry had known from prior experience that two of his fingers were most definitely broke, as were at least _three _of his knuckles. His left hand, he reckoned, had almost _certainly _been broke, and he wondered briefly how he had been able to grip the roots of the tree so tightly. He flexed his hands lightly, and the fingers gently flexed, as good as knew. There was no blood on either of his hands.

Remembering the intense pain in his toes and feet, Harry grasped his worn boots and pulled them off, and to his suprise his feet were also looking as good as new. He looked at the tree roots in amazement, and then at the grass, and then at Arganual.

"The Forest _healed _me?" Harry said weakly, and Argnaul nodded. "I. .why did it. .just to prove that I'm. .the Forest can _heal _people?"

Arganual shook his head in disagreement.

"Not people, no," he said. "Only _you, Lionheart_."

"Don't call me that," Harry snapped, but inside something was beginning to fall into place. He turned away from Arganual and looked down at the tree roots which had burned him so painfully, and then turned back to the Thestral and looked at the grass around his hooves, remembering it's heat as his feet were healed, and the rich colour of gold his hands had turned.

And suddenly it all went in.

Harry remembered all his encounters in the Forbidden Forest since his first year; he had been saved from Voldemort then by an inhabitant of the Forest, Firenze the Centaur; the Forest had saved him. In his second year another inhabitant of the Forest, the flying Ford Anglia, had saved him from death. Albeit he had been being saved from _another _race in the Forest, but he had still been saved by the Forest. Last year he had been saved by another inhabitant of the Forest, Grawp, from certain death otherwise. And then just minutes ago he had almost certainly had broken bones in both his hands and his feet, but the Forest had healed them for him. He realised that, despite all the dangerous and life-threatening situations he had been in in the Forest, he had _never _come to any harm. It was almost like the Forest was looking out for him or something, protecting him from harm, as loyal soldiers would do for their general. . .

"I'm _Lionheart_," he whispered, and Arganual bowed low to the ground, his lowest bow yet.

"Yes, Harry Potter," he said, his face to the grass. "You are."

Harry stared down at the Thestral at his feet, a strange feeling of foreboding and acceptance in his stomach. He stared hard at Arganual.

"What do I have to do?" he asked him.

"You are our leader," Arganual replied, slowly getting back up on his feet and standing tall again. "You are our High Protector and Guardian, our Commander, and it is you who must lead us into battle. We are _not _ready for battle. You must train us for it."

"Train you. I've got to train every single creature in this Forest how to fight. And then I have to lead you all into battle?"

Arganual bowed his head, and Harry sighed and looked to the sky. _Why, why me? _he asked again, before berating himself for losing focus and bringing his eyes back to Arganual. He looked him in the eye.

"Alright then," he said, his voice full of determination. "I'll do it."

And then, the panic set in.

"But how am I ever going to be able to command _all _the creatures of this Forest?" he hissed desparately at Arganual. "Some of them _hate _humans. I've already nearly been eaten by Acromantulas in here, and the Centaurs have said that they'll kill any human who enters the Forest. So how. ."

Harry stopped short and looked around suddenly, having forgot the Centaur's threat when he had first entered the Forest, and now half-expecting Bane and the other Centaurs to suddenly come charging at him.

"You have nothing to fear from them anymore," Arganual hissed. "And never again will you have to fear to come into this Forest, Harry Potter, for you are _Lionheart._"

"Yeah, we've established that now," Harry muttered, and then another thought came into his head.

"In two years time I _leave _Hogwarts," he said. "Two years. Do you think that's long enough to train every single race in this Forest to fight? Do you? It can't be done!"

"You will find a way, Harry Potter."

"And what if I don't find a way?" Harry hissed back. "What if I _don't _train you in time? What happens if Voldemort attacks next week, and you're not ready to fight? You'll all get massacred! And some of the races in here won't even _let_ me train them. Like I told you, the Centaur's were going to kill me, as were the Acromantulas, and the Centaur's have banned me from the Forest! I'm not even allowed _in _the Forest, let alone allowed to _protect _it, let alone allowed to come in regularly and train all the races in here to fight in a battle where you could all be killed! They won't cooperate with me, I _know _they won't, and so how am I going to be able to train them to fight?"

"I shall call a _Meeting of the Forest_," Arganual said. Harry gave him a puzzled look, and he explained.

"A _Meeting of the Forest _is a meeting of the primary races of the Forest, which meets when an issue arises that collectively concerns us all. All other issues, such as the Food Chain, are swept aside in such times, and a _Meeting of the Forest _is called to decided on what we must do. Most races generally send representatives to these Meetings, to speak on behalf of their race.

"When we all assembled in the next Meeting, _you_ will be there as well. There we will debate your claim to the title of _Lionheart, High Protector and Guardian of the Great Forest_."

"What claim, I didn't. ."

Harry stopped, shaking his head slowly, resigning himself to the face that there was just no point arguing about it. He sighed deeply, accepting defeat, and turned to Arganual.

"When are you going to arrange this Meeting for then?" he said.

"That, _Lionheart,_ is up to you." Harry frowned.

"Well, alright," he said uncertainly. "Er, let's see. . .it's the second of September now, and it'd probably be best to do it as quick as possible. . .how about on the seventh? That''d be the best, that's on a Sunday."

Arganual nodded in agreement.

"And when do you think I should hold this Meeting?" Harry asked him. "At day or night?"

"I would advise you to arrange the Meeting for early in the day, preferably Sunrise. I do not anticipate it to be a quick Meeting." Harry's eyebrow's rose at the last comment.

"Really?" he said, interested. "How long do you think it'll take?"

Arganual raised his head to the sky again.

"Many will be wanting to see you," he said. "You will have to answer many questions. It would be best to begin at Sunrise."

Harry nodded, and hissed back, "okay, we'll do that then. And er, _where _do you think I should hold this Meeting?"

"I know of a place," Arganual hissed. "I will inform the others that it will be there. If you would take my advice, I would meet you an hour before Sunrise on the morn of the Meeting, by the borders of the Forbidden Forest. I will take you to the Meeting."

Harry nodded, a sense of foreboding entering his stomach as he thought about this impending Meeting, and hissed at Arganual, "is that everything then?"

Arganual bent his head to the side, and gave Harry a strange look.

"For the moment it is everything," he hissed after a minute, "until the Meeting of the Forest."

Harry nodded.

"Ok, well, it's been nice meeting you," he said awkwardly. They couldn't very well shake hands as they left eachother, and Harry wondered if he should pat the old Thestral on the back or something, or stroke him, but the tall Thestral looked too noble for that.

"I'll see you on Sunday," he settled with finally, and began to walk away, before something came to his mind. He turned back to Arganual.

"Erm, I know this'll sound strange," he hissed, "but could you not tell anyone about me hititng the tree and crying and all that? It's not exactly something that the races of the Forest are going to want to know about their new leader; they'll all think I'm weak."

"Your secret is safe with me, Harry Potter." Harry nodded at him.

"Thank you."

Harry turned to walk away, when Arganual's voice stopped him.

"Before you leave, Harry Potter," Arganual said, "a word of warning in your ear."

Harry turned back to Arganual.

"The tale of the High Protector and Guardian _Lionheart_ has been told to the inhabitants of this Forest for over six hundred years. As such it has been distorted into a legendary myth by many races, and _not_ as a record of what is to come in the future. And so I must tell you, then; many races of this Forest will be expecting _Lionheart _to be a great warrior, of strength, wisdom and great authority. They will expect him to be seven feet tall with a five foot long sword, with a long beard and clad in shining armour. They will _not _be expecting a young man of sixteen as their great High Protector and Guardian.

"Now I, in the hardly-won wisdom of my race, have fully accepted that you are _not _a warrior hero of great authority, or at least I have accepted that you are not one _yet. _However, other races of this Great Forest will _not _be so accepting, and so I must warn you to please act as warrior-like and as commanding as you can."

Harry sighed and looked to the sky, which was now slowly turning to a dark evening blue. _This just gets better and better, _he thought wryly. He brang his eyes back to earth, and to Arganual.

"And how am I supposed to do _that_?" he hissed. "How am I supposed to act '_warrior-like and commanding_'?"

"Speak in tones that leave no room for argument. Tell them that no, you are _not _what they expected, but myths can be misleading. Throw in casual references to make it seem like you have fought many battles and experienced a lot in the past. You never have to mention anything specific, just make references; they should all get the picture. And then outline your plans in your most commanding tone, firm and authoratitive."

"_My plans_?" said Harry, starting to panic. "What plans?"

"You are _Lionheart, _Harry Potter, _High Protector and Guardian of the Great Forest_, the one that will lead the races of this Forest into battle. We are not yet _ready _for battle. Do you understand?"

"Oh!" said Harry, remembering now. "Right right, plans to train you all. I. ."

And then he stopped.

"Hold on, I haven't _got _any plans yet! You mean to say that I have to have all my plans for training every single bloody race in this Forest organised and ready to present for _Sunday, _in _six days time_? It's impossible, I can't do it!" he said, beginning to panic again.

"No," Arganual hissed, "you do not have to have all your plans organised for the Meeting. All you have to do is _outline _your plans, as I said before. All you have to do is act like you _do_ have your plans organised and ready. I'm sure you can convince them that you know what you're talking about, even though youwon't."

Harry _swore _he could detect a trace of amusement in the old Thestral's voice, and he relaxed and smiled at him.

"Alright then," Harry hissed, "I'll do that. Oh, and one more thing; is it alright if I tell my friends about this? I'm going to need some help."

"Would you trust them to keep this information to themselves?" Arganual hissed, and Harry nodded immediately.

"I would trust them with my life," he said, and Arganual bowed, for some reason Harry didn't know.

"That is well," he hissed. "You will need friends like that in the days that are to come."

Harry chose to ignore this comment, and merely said, "I'll see you on Sunday." Arganual lowered his head and bowed to the floor again, and when he raised his body again Harry bowed back to him, less uncertainly this time. He nodded at the Thestral and walked away.

"Until then_, Lionheart_," he heard Arganual hiss behind him, and Harry turned to see the Thestral one last time.

But he was already gone, a large bat-like shape above the trees in the velvet blue sky, getting smaller and smaller as he flew away south. Harry watched as he flew further away, leaving him alone with the Forest, the night, the moon and another heavy burden for his young and already heavily burdened shoulders.

Harry met Hagrid and walked back through the Forest in the deepening dark with him with his mind still full of Arganual's meaningful words, his head spinning and his stomach churning. Hagrid had eagerly asked about their meeting when Harry had met him, but he had looked at Harry's troubled face and refrained from asking again, although he had asked several times if Harry was alright. Harry had said he didn't want to talk about it.

It was pitch black when they returned to Hagrid's cabin, having avoided getting lost only by Harry lighting his wand and Hagrid's extensive knowledge of the Forest paths. Fang bounded in happily when Harry opened the door, and Hagrid quickly made some tea and sat down a cup in front of Harry sitting on the sofa, which he took gratefully. Hagrid himself sat down opposite Harry in his enormous armchair, looking worriedly over at him.

"Yeh okay, Harry? Do yeh want teh talk about it yet?"

Harry sighed and put down his cup of tea, which he had just burnt his tongue with. He began to tell Hagrid again that he didn't want to talk about it, but he found himself relaying the whole conversation to him, stopping for breath only when it was absolutely necessary. It felt like the more he talked about it the more the idea that he was responsible for protecting all these creature's lives became more real, and this feeling of responsibility, along with remembering the Prophecy and the Line of Protectors, was beginning to make Harry feel literally suffocated. He could feel a literal weight on his shoulders, and a painfully constricting feeling in his chest.

"I. can't breathe," he gasped out, finding it hard to talk. "I've. . got to get . . some air."

And with that Harry staggered out of the cabin and vomited violently on the grass, choking and gasping for air as he did so, the words of Sybil Trelawney, Albus Dumbledore and Arganual the Chief of the Thestrals running unmercifully through his mind. He finished vomiting after a minute, but continued to stand there hunched over the grass, feeling close to just collapsing, but using all his willpower to stay conscious.

Suddenly he felt a large and comforting hand on his back and shoulder, and he clung to it with his right hand with all his might, now using all his willpower to hold back the tears of fear, pressure and immense responsibility that were threatening to escape him.

He held on to the hand tightly.

After a while he calmed down, his tears safely stored back in his chest having not been shed, and he released Hagrid's hand with shame and embarassment.

"Sorry about that," he said to him, standing up straight and turning round to face Hagrid. "You don't need this. I'll get going now."

Harry turned and began to make his way up the lawn, but Hagrid pulled him back round before he'd even taken two steps.

"Oh, yeh goin' back now are yeh? Not in _that _state yeh not," he said, and without another word practically picked Harry up and carried him back into his cabin.

"C'mon Fang!" he shouted to his giant Boarhound as he went, who was happily licking up Harry's vomit.

Hagrid pushed Harry back into the sofa he had previously been sitting on and began to bustle around in his kitchen cupboard, muttering to himself as he did so. He emerged half a minute later with a suspicious-looking, un-labelled bottle of swirling pink liquid. He handed it to Harry.

"Here yeh are," he said, "get a mouthful of that down yeh. Trust me, it'll do the trick."

Harry didn't have the strength to argue, and trusting Hagrid took a swig of the swirling pink liquid, which passed smoothly down his throat.

The potion worked instantly, and Harry's stomach stopped churning and his head stopped spinning. He felt refreshed as if he had just had a morning shower, but he nevertheless still had an aching pain in his chest, but that was nothing compared to how much better he now felt.

"Wow Hagrid," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and screwing the cap back on to the bottle of the swirling pink liquid. "This stuff's great! What is it?"

"What, this stuff?" said Hagrid, taking the bottle from Harry and sticking it back in his kitchen cupboard. "Oh, home concoction this is! Jus' Butterbeer and Pepper-Up Potion mixed together, that's all. Gets rid of anythin'; colds, flu, headaches, anythin' at all. Only don' hav' too much of it, it'll make yeh more sick than yeh were teh begin' with."

Harry nodded, still basking in the luxury of feeling so refreshed, and made a mental note to make up a home concoction of his own.

"So then Harry," said Hagrid gently, setting down a cup of tea in front of himself. "What was all that outside? Do yeh want teh talk about it?"

Harry quickly silenced the thought in his head that said _yes_, he _did _want to talk about it, and shook his head.

"Er, nah it's alright," he said, trying to sound casual. "Don't want to get all depressed again."

Hagrid gave him an oddly penetrating look.

"Well if yeh sure, Harry," he said quietly, leaning forward in his chair. "Maybe if yeh jus'. ."

"No! Hagrid please, just leave it," Harry said, preventing himself from shouting at the first friend he had ever known. "I just don't want to talk about it, alright? It's not because it's you, I just don't want to talk about it."

Hagrid looked reluctant to just leave it, but nodded in acknowledgement of Harry's wishes. His brow furrowed for a minute, seemingly thinking, and then looked up at Harry with a suprisingly wide grin on his face.

"Did yeh have a good summer 'arry?" he said brightly, still grinning. "I heard yeh knocked ol' Moody an' Kingsley abou' a bit!"

Harry laughed, grateful at Hagrid for breaking the tension inside the cabin, and the two of them spent the next few hours talking about their summers, and many other topics in between.

Hagrid it transpired had had a _very _eventful summer out on missions for Dumbledore and the Order, missions which started out as "top secret" assignments and eventually turned into highly detailed accounts of adventures he had been on.

His main mission that summer had again concerned the giants. Apparently they had slaughtered their old Gurg Golgomath after he had got too greedy and caused the rest of them to nearly starve, resulting in an revolt against him by the _entire _tribe, including _all _of his closest supporters. But then the new Gurg, Gunack, had sparked _another _revolt by declaring that the whole tribe was going to Britain to become allies of Dumbledore, and the tribe had split, "twenty-one teh twenty-two." Twenty-one of them had stayed in the mountains, and were Voldemort supporters, according to Hagrid.

"That lot can' be help'd now," Hagrid said. "They're all under You-Know-Who's command now; we'll jus' hav' to be glad that they're aren't more of 'em."

The other twenty-two giants had apparently then begun to move down from the mountains, in search of Britain and Dumbledore. Dumbledore had had word of their coming, and had sent Hagrid and Madame Maxime to meet them before they got too far into human-occupied France.

"Course, they remember'd us from before," Hagrid said, his eyes bright. "The one who had translated fer me the first time was their chief now, and he turned out teh be the old Gurg Karkus's brother. We met 'im an' told 'im our message from Dumbledore, an' then would yeh believe it, Dumbledore _himself _turns up!"

"_What_?" said Harry incredulously, thrown by this news. "Dumbledore came to see the giants? What did he say to them?"

"He said summat abou' 'avin a '_common enemy and a common goal_', 'an then he told 'em that You-Know-Who was gonna 'av 'em all killed as soon as they'd won his war for him. That got 'em goin', and they were all ready teh go find the ruddy lunatic right then and there, and tear him to pieces.

"Dumbledore told 'em however that '_the time was not yet ripe_', and that he would call on 'em when the '_time came_'. Me an' 'im an' Olympe walked back up in teh the mountains with 'em, avoiding the other lot, and Dumbledore performed a Fidelius Charm over a _huge _part of the mountains, so the others 'ed never find 'em. He don' reckon they'll be any more in-fighting with 'em anymore, seein' as they all support _him,_ but I'm no' so sure."

"So the giants who support Dumbledore are safe from attack now?" he asked Hagrid, who nodded. "And there's twenty-two of them?"

Hagrid nodded, and Harry rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighing. He looked up at Hagrid.

"And Voldemort's got twenty-one, right?" he said, and Hagrid nodded again, flinching at Voldemort's name. Harry ignored this and twirled his fingers in front of his mouth, scratching his chin and thinking.

"Twenty-one versus twenty-two," he whispered, "a one-giant advantage. Although Voldemort's probably already got an army of creatures he can use."

Harry looked up at Hagrid for confirmation to this statement, and Hagrid avoided his eyes and began stuttering on about his plans for his lessons over the following year. Harry sighed; _that confirms it then, _he thought wryly.

"What has he got so far?" Harry asked, and Hagrid's expression turned dark.

"We know that he's got the Vampires all on 'is side," he said grimly. "_None _of 'em can resist a chance of free food, no matter _how _much they say they '_live on goat's blood_' and nothin' else. He's got Dementors, o' course, hundreds of 'em, and werewolves. Rumour as' it he's been trying teh roun' up some Lethifold's as well. Trolls as well, big ones from the mountains. An' we've heard another rumour that he's been tryin' teh get some Dragons as well."

"_Dragons_?" said Harry in panic, and Hagrid nodded, looking grim. "Do you know if he's got any yet?"

"It's unlikely," Hagrid said, frowning. "Dragons are all protected under Magical Law, and they've all got charms on 'em teh make sure they don' jus' dissappear. An' if they _do _get away, they've also go' a charm on 'em which would tell people where they are straight away, an' that . . ."

"And that could lead us to Voldemort," Harry whispered, a sudden feeling of hope in his chest. He looked at Hagrid hard.

"Can you keep me informed of the progress that Voldemort's making on getting some Dragons? Please?"

Hagrid looked suspicious. "Why do yeh wan' teh know so bad?" he asked, narrowing his eyes at Harry.

"Well he's my enemy isn't he?" Harry said, trying to sound as casual as he could be in this kind of situation. "I just want to be kept informed of what he's doing."

"Don' even _think _about thinkin' abou' goin' after 'im," he said, shaking an enormous finger in front of his face. "That's not fer yeh to do. Yeh just leave that teh others teh do."

Harry sighed. "No one else _can _do it Hagrid, trust me, I. . ."

Harry stopped, before he let slip the contents of the Prophecy without meaning to. He looked at Hagrid earnestly.

"Will you keep me informed? Please?"

Hagrid, still looking at Harry through suspicious and narrowed eyes, nevertheless promised that he would, and Harry thanked him. Hagrid gave him a grin under his bushy eyebrows.

"Don' let all that about You-Know-Who's troops get yeh down," he said, clapping an enormous hand on Harry's shoulder. "After all, we've go' a _much _bigger army."

"We've got a. .what? Since when? Of what? How comes _I _wasn't told?"

Hagrid shook his head at Harry, grinning. He shook his shoulder roughly, but in what was evidently meant to be a playful move.

"Thick as two short planks, yeh are," he said jokingly, and Harry said, "Oi!"

The two of them burst into laughter, and when their laughter over something so unfunny was over, Hagrid gave Harry a disbelieving look.

"Oh_ come on_, 'Arry!" he said, looking exasperated now. "What army do yeh _think _I'm talkin' abou'? What 'ave yeh tol' me tonight, eh?"

"Oh. . ." Harry said, realisation hitting him hard. "You mean the creatures I have to train, and lead into battle?"

Hagrid nodded seriously. "The creatures o' that Forest aren' no pushover, Harry. Can look after themselves, they can. Look at what yeh've got; yeh've got Thestrals, which are _very _ferecious when being attacked. Yeh've got Unicorns, who can hurt Lethifold's jus' by _lookin' _at 'em, because o' them bein' so pure. Not sure if it works with Dementors though. An' then yeh've got the Acromantulas as well; yeh should know that _they_ aren't pushovers."

"Yeah, don't I know it," Harry muttered, remembering his and Ron's encounter with the giant spiders in their second year.

"And yeh've go' _Centaurs _as well, 'Arry! They might be a bunch of nutty stargazers, but they're ruddy good warriors as well; one o' the most dangerous lot in the whole Forest, they are. An' then there's the creatures that yeh haven't met yet.

"So yeah, I think our armies are goin' teh be a _lot _bigger than You-Know-Who's will be. Especially with _you_ leading 'em!" Hagrid said, smiling.

Harry faked a smile back and stared unseeingly at the oak cupboard behind Hagrid's armchair, worrying simultaneously about his leadership qualities with the creatures of the Forest and with the size of Voldemort's armies. He did _not _share Hagrid's optimism that it was they who had a bigger army, and that it was going to stay that way; Harry _knew _Voldemort, and he _knew _that he wouldn't give up on expanding his army and his followers for _anything_. Harry gritted his teeth together, and balled his hands into fists; _then I'm not giving up either _he thought fiercely, remembering the amount of different races Hagrid said Voldemort had. _I'm going to train those creatures until they're all fighting machines, _he thought with determination.

"Wan' another cup o' tea Harry?"

Hagrid's words broke through his thoughts, and Harry started. He looked up at Hagrid, bustling away in the kitchen with the teapot.

"Yeah, sure," he said to his back.

It was nearly midnight when Harry finally left Hagrid's hut, and was now completely exhausted from the emotionally draining day he had had. He spent most of the walk back up to the Castle wiping off Fang's drool from his robes, Fang having fallen asleep on Harry's lap with his mouth open earlier.

He reached Gryffindor Tower quickly when he entered the castle, dreaming of sleep as he stood in front of the guardian portrait to the Tower, who was snoring lightly.

"_Golden Snitch_," he said to the Fat Lady, and the talking portrait opened her eyes slowly.

"Out late for your first day back aren't you my dear?" she said sleepily, blinking the sleep out of her eyes. Harry smiled humourlessly at her. She swung forward for him to enter, and Harry climbed into the Common Room.

There were only a few people left in the Common Room when Harry walked in; a couple of third years playing Exploding Snap on the hearthrug in front of the fire, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown messing around with some Tarot Cards on one of the large sofas, and Ron and Hermione snuggled into a corner of the room, quietly doing homework. Harry made straight for them.

"Harry!" Ron said in suprise, as Harry approached the two of them at their small table. "Excellent, you're back. So, what did Hagrid want to talk to you about?"

"Oh, just this and that, nothing serious or anything," he said casually, and Hermione looked up at him suspiciously.

"Then why did he want you to come alone?" she asked, and Harry sighed, acting like she'd caught him out.

"Okay fine, he wanted me to talk about my feelings; you know, about everything that's been happening. He wanted me to talk about it." _And,_ Harry thought, that _was _strictly true; Hagrid _had _wanted him to talk about his feelings. He hadn't really _lied _to Ron and Hermione, he'd just avoided saying a few more things that had happened in his visit to Hagrid. He didn't feel up to telling them about Arganual and _Lionheart _right now; _I'll tell them tomorrow,_ he vowed.

Hermione nodded, looking pitying, and Ron looked uncomfortable for a moment before looking up brightly.

"Fancy a game of chess Harry?" he asked unconvincly, glancing nervously sideways at Hermione, and Harry nodded, having no intention of playing chess but trying to get his friend out of doing homework after midnight. Hermione sighed and shook her head, but did not object for once about Ron trying to get out of doing his homework. Looking up, she looked startled as she looked at Harry.

"You look exhausted," she said anxiously, and Harry nodded vaguely, his mind on his bed upstairs, and sleep. .

"So did Hagrid mention anything decent?" Ron's voice brutally cut through his lovely dreams of his bed. "Anything about You-Know-Who or the You-Know-What?"

Harry opened his eyes and raised an eyebrow at Ron.

"The _You-Know-What_?" he said, frowning. "What's that?"

Hermione also looked like she wanted to know. Ron pushed his head forwards towards them, so no one else would hear what he said.

"The You-Know-What's the _Order_," he whispered, shaking his head and grinning. "Honestly, I don't know how I put up with you two sometimes."

"Ha ha," said Harry sarcastically, and Hermione turned to him.

"So Harry, _did _Hagrid say anything about You-Know-Who or the You-Know-What?"

"Oh he said a few things," Harry said dismissively, and pulled up a stool to sit at their little table, which was littered with quills, parchment, ink bottles and textbooks. "Nothing important really, just trivial stuff. I'll tell you in the morning, I'm too tired right now. So, what homework's this?"

"Thorlaug's," said Ron miserably. "It's unbelievable, this is, ain't it? We've been back a _day_, and we're already up to our necks in it. Rubbish, it is."

"Well there's a lot of work to get through before we take our NEWTs next year," Hermione said briskly, as she checked the index page of one of her many textbooks. "Remember, this is a two-year course we're on now."

"Yeah, we know," said Ron morosely, moving his parchment out of the way and resting his head on the table. Suddenly he sat up, his eyes wide.

"Blimey, imagine what _next _year's going to be like, if it's like this _now_? We'll be drowning in work, don't think I'll be able to cope."

Harry shook his head, opening his eyes with difficulty to talk. "Nah, nor me, I reckon that. . .that. .ohhhh. ." he was cut off from talking by a huge overpowering yawn, which made Ron yawn loudly as well.

"Why don't you get to bed, Harry?" Hermione said, taking her eyes off her textbook and looking at him with a concerned expression. "You look like you're nearly asleep anyway. Go on, get to bed."

Harry nodded, shaking his head to keep himself awake. "Yeah, yeah, I think I'll do that. ."

"And I'll join you!" said Ron brightly, jumping up, before Hermione grabbed his arm and forcefully pulled him back down into his seat.

"Oh no you don't, finish taking those notes first," she said sternly, and Ron looked pleadingly at her.

"Oh come on Hermione!" he said weakly. "Harry hasn't even _started _his yet, and you're letting _him _go to bed, that's not fair!"

"Well look at him, does he look like he's going to get any work done in that state?" Hermione shot back. "You've only got two pages left, what's the point in leaving them until tomorrow?"

"Because they're only two pages!" retorted Ron, slumping down in his chair. "Oh _come on _Hermione, it's past midnight for Merlin's sake, and look, I'm _really _tired. . ."

Ron gave a hugely over-exaggerated and obviously fake yawn, which _clearly _did not impress Hermione, who crossed her arms sternly, but made Harry laugh. He smiled at the two of them.

"Like an old married couple, you two," he said jokingly, and was suprised when Ron's ears went red and Hermione's cheeks went pink. Hermione quickly mumbled something about needing to do her work and disappeared behind a large textbook that hid her face, and Ron muttered something about Hermione being right about his own work and he too disappeared behind a large book, blocking his face from view, leaving Harry staring at two large books instead of his two best friends. Harry looked at the books, confused.

"Okay, well, I'm going to bed now. . ." he said uncertainly, and the two books in front of him nodded.

"Good night Harry," said one, while the other said, "see you in the morning."

Harry stared.

"Okay. .well, night then," he said, and the two books nodded vigorously again. Harry stood up and slowly made his way to the spiral staircase that led to the dormitories. As he reached the staircase he looked back; the two books were still firmly placed in front of his best friend's faces, although he could see a pair of bright red ears poking out the sides of one of them.

Harry sighed; he really did worry about those two sometimes.

The next morning Harry awoke horribly sleepily at half past five, intending to try his luck in running around the lake. To his great suprise he actually almost managed it, but three quarters of the way round it he physically and mentally couldn't carry on running, resulting in his legs giving way from beneath him and sending him tripping face first into the lake.

Nonetheless Harry returned to the castle refreshed and invigorated by his morning run, feeling comforted, as he had done in the summer, by having a stable routine to stick to. As he squelched through the Entrance Hall, dripping lake water all over the marble floor, he thanked the stars that there was no sign of Professor McGonagall this time.

Halfway up to Gryffindor Tower Harry finally realised that there was such a thing as a drying charm, and performed it immediately, berating himself for not thinking of it earlier. He then took a shower in the sixth year boy's dormitory bathroom when he returned, and was dressed and ready for the day by the time the Ron, Dean, Seamus and Neville got up at seven, grumbling and moaning sleepily as they got ready for the day only half awake. Harry decided he'd get up a bit later for his morning run in future, as he lay on his bed bored as Ron slouched around like a zombie looking for his socks, grumbling about house elves moving them at night, and how, "it's a plot of Dobby's, he's stolen them all."

Eventually however Dobby's innocence was proved when Ron finally found his socks (under his _pillow_, of all places), and he and Harry rushed down to the common room to meet Hermione five minutes late, who, frantic at being late for her first lesson, made them practically run down to the Great Hall for breakfast.

They arrived at the Great Hall at the same time as the morning post, with Harry's _Daily Prophet _falling apart on the stone floor as the delivery owl flung it unceremoniously at his head as he walked towards the Gryffindor table. Ron saved Hermione from a similar fate and a headache by catching her copy of the _Prophet _inches from her head, where it would have struck her in the forehead, and calmly passing it to her. As Harry bent down to put the paper back together, he glanced briefly at the main article of the front page of the newspaper: _Chaos at Ministry as Fudge's government collapses. _

He sighed heavily, and quickly and roughly pulled the paper back together and made his way to the Gryffindor table, ignoring the whispers and stares that had begun with his entrance into the Great Hall.

Ron and Hermione were sitting alone at the end of the table nearest to the door, and Harry quickly reached them, sitting down next to Ron and immediately unfolding the _Prophet _and beginning to read the front page main article. He saw Ron glance at him out of the corner of his eye.

"You read this yet?" Ron asked, pointing to the front page article Harry had been reading.

"Give us a chance," Harry muttered, not taking his eyes off the paper. He read the article quickly, and leaned back and sighed as he finished. It was basically more of the same from yesterday's _Prophet_, reinforcing what had been said then; that Fudge's reign as Minister of Magic was coming to an end, and that the majority of the British wizarding world had '_lost confidence in Fudge's leadership_.' The only real new development was that '_the Ministry's mass state of confusion has been intensified by Minister Fudge's increasingly-insane decision-making, including making anyone who does not agree with him (or who he doesn't like the look of) redundant_.'

Harry glanced worriedly at Ron, who was now looking slighty green. He gave Harry a meaningful look, that confirmed to Harry that they were both thinking the same thing; if Fudge was going around sacking everyone he didn't like, then Ron's dad, Arthur Weasley, who was already under suspicion by Fudge for being a close ally of Dumbledore's, would surely be sacked soon. Hermione put a hand on Ron's arm, which seemed to be make him relax immensely, his tense position turning into a more relaxed one.

"Your dad will be okay, Ron," she said soothingly, "he's too important a member of the Ministry for Fudge to sack him, his department would fall apart without him."

Ron nodded morosely, not saying a word and staring down at his newspaper. As he stared at Ron's downcast face, Harry realised that it wasn't only Ron's dad who was at threat by Fudge's pathetic behaviour; there was Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt as well, who had both been suspended in June for charging in to the Department of Mysteries to fight without calling for reinforcements. _They're probably at odds with Fudge as well, _Harry thought. _This could affect the entire Order_, he realised, and gritted his teeth and clenched his fists in his frustration with Fudge. _The sooner he's out the better_ he thought savagely.

Harry shook his head, giving Ron a sympathetic look before flicking through the rest of the paper. There were no more _major _revealations about the chaos at the Ministry, and there was nothing, to Harry's relief, about Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Most of the newspaper was devoted to a '_Household defence guide against the Dark Arts and it's followers_.' Harry flicked through it sceptically; he had taught most of the guide to the DA already, and the rest were simple defence spells he had been taught over the summer. There was not one attacking spell in the entire guide; everything was purely defence. _I could come up with a better guide than this, _he thought derisively, shutting the paper in disgust.

_Now there was an idea. . . ._

"Harry!"

Harry raised his head quickly and turned around with his hand instinctively on his wand, but relaxed when he saw the person who had shouted his name was only Katie Bell, a Chaser and one of Harry's team-mates on the Gyffindor Quidditch team. She seemed very rushed as she practically ran up to Harry and turned to face him. Harry smiled at her.

"Hi Katie, have a nice. . ."

"Sorry Harry, haven't got long, in a rush," she said impatiently, nodding at him suddenly. "You free Thursday lunchtime?"

Harry thought about it for a second. "Yeah, I am. Why, what do you. . ."

"We've got a meeting," she interrupted him. "Me, you and McGonagall. Need to talk about the plans for the Quidditch team this season. Start of lunch on Thursday, okay? McGonagall's office. Be there."

She turned to hurry off, but Harry stopped her.

"What? Meeting, lunchtime? _Quidditch_?" he spluttered, confused. "But I don't even know if I'm allowed to play again yet!"

Katie waved her hand dismissively. "Course you can. I asked Dumbledore personally yesterday. He said you can play."

Harry stared at her with his mouth open, not daring to believe it. _He could play Quidditch again! He could fly again! _

He turned to Ron and Hermione, who were grinning widely at him. He grinned back at them and turned again to Katie, whose hastiness had seemed to momentarily melt away at the look on Harry's face. He opened his mouth to thank her for asking Dumbledore, but nothing came out; he seemed to have lost his voice. Katie smiled at him and gave him a quick hug.

"Congratulations Harry," she said, still smiling. "Can't keep a good Seeker down eh?"

She ruffled his hair, and Harry vaguely put his hand up to stop her, the rest of his mind fixed on the feeling he felt when he was flying, when he was playing Quidditch. . . the pure freedom, of having no worries as he flew through the air. . . the wind, whipping around his robes and hair and cutting into his face. . . the sheer ferocity, the violence and the quickness of the game itself. . .the competition with the other Seeker to catch the Snitch. . .the fluttering wings of the Snitch grasped in his hand. . . the roar of the crowd cheering. . . the celebrations, the excitement, the happiness. . .

Harry was broken out of his thoughts by Katie's laughter, presumably at something Ron had said. She tuned to him and Hermione now.

"Make sure he doesn't walk into any walls on his way to his lesson will you?" she said, and Hermione and Ron laughed.

"Hermione'll take care of him," he said.

"Good," Katie said, nodding. "And remember Ron; Quidditch Pitch, ten minutes."

This brought Harry back to his senses, and he looked inquistively at Ron, as did Hermione. Harry opened his mouth to speak, but. . .

"Oh?" said Hermione sharply to Katie, sounding strangely hostile to Harry's ears as she narrowed her eyes at her. Next to her, Ron looked suprised and confused. "And what are the two of you doing down at the Quidditch Pitch together?"

Ron turned to Hermione to get her to face him, but she kept her eyes firmly on Katie, who seemed nonplussed by Hermione's hostility.

"I'm training him," she said simply. "Needs a decent Chaser to train a decent Keeper, dosen't it? I'm just training him Hermione, that's all."

She gave Ron and Hermione each a knowing look, which made Hermione's cheeks flush pink and Ron look confused, and then slightly alarmed.

"Oh Merlin!" Katie said suddenly, looking at her watch with horrified eyes. "I've got to go see Madam Hooch. Ron, Quidditch Pitch, ten minutes. Harry, Thursday lunchtime, McGonagall's office. Hermione, erm. .have a nice day."

She hurried off before any of them could say goodbye to her. Ron waited until she had left the Hall completely before rounding on Hermione.

"What was _that _all about?" he demanded, his ears red. "Getting all uppety about us going to the Quidditch Pitch . . .I haven't got a lesson, remember? I'm not skiving!"

"What? Skiving? I never said you were. . .oh, right! Oh yes, I forgot about that, you've got the first two lessons off haven't you?"

Hermione's cheeks were now quite pink, and Harry and Ron were staring at her. Ron nodded slowly to her question.

"Well, you know, it's okay then," she continued hurriedly. "Just as long as you're not missing anything important. Quidditch is important as well, of course. Have a good practice then. Come on Harry, we're going to be late!"

Harry didn't move, but continued to stare at her in shock, as did Ron. Hermione tugged on Harry's arm a few times, but when he just continued to stare at her she gave up and shouldered her bag and marched up the Great Hall towards the double doors. After a few seconds Harry and Ron turned to eachother, confused. Ron shrugged, and Harry nodded in agreement.

"_Bonkers_," they said at the same time, and they both grinned. "See you at break," Harry said.

Ron mock saluted him, and Harry shouldered his bag and jogged off to catch up with Hermione, abandoning the _Daily Prophet _on the table, and looking forward to a pleasant double lesson with his favourite teacher.

"NEWT level Potions studies," said Professor Severus Snape coldly, silencing the student's chatter with a look, "is the most advanced subject you will ever study at Hogwarts, bar _none. _It follows therefore that it is also the most _dangerous _subject you will be studying, and so, while I am confident safety standards in this class will improve with the absence of such ridiculously inept students as Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnigan, a Potions classroom is _always _a potentially harmful place, and so I must warn you now; any misbehaving in this class, any wandering minds, any simple misjudgements, and any persistent spilling of substances; _all _will be dealt with _very _severly. And mark my words they _will_ be, if not by myself then by the potions you poison yourself or your classmates with through your carelessness."

Harry, sitting in the back row with Hermione, felt his stomach churn with nervousness.

"Now, _most _of you here," Snape continued, his lip curling and his gaze lingering on Harry, who glared at him, "have succeeded in achieving an 'Outstanding' grade in your Potions OWL, and so I am going to allow you a certain amount of freedom in your studies."

Snape flicked his wand, and small gold keys appeared on the benches in front of the ten or so students in the class. _A small class, _Harry noted vaguely, as he picked up the gold key in front of him and examined it idly.

"These keys," said Snape, "are the keys needed to access your own personal supply cupboard of ingriedients, ingriedients which will enable you to brew any potion up to '_Dastardly Dangerous' _level. Any potion that you wish to make _above _that level must _only _be done so with _my _consent, and I will provide the ingriedients needed for the potion myself. On no accounts _whatsoever _is a Potion above '_Dastardly Dangerous' _level to be attempted without my personal consent, and failure to follow this rule will result in your expulsion from this class. You have been warned.

"Of course, I will only grant you permission to brew a potion above DD level if I deem it in your ability to make. Some in this class, I fear, will have more difficulty than others in brewing the more elaborate and complex concoctions that the subtle science of potion-making allows, and so it is doubtful that these members of the class will gain my consent to allow them to attempt difficult potions. It is regrettable of course, but personal safety must always come first."

Snape smirked at Harry, and the rest of the class all turned to look at him, knowing that '_these members of the class_' only meant Harry. Harry kept his eyes locked on Snape, and felt a familiar feeling of strong determination course through him, cutting off the blood-boiling hate that he felt for Snape at that moment. _I'll show you _he thought fiercely, neither blinking nor moving his eyes from Snape's for a second. Snape stared straight back, an annoying smirk on his face the entire time.

After a minute it was Snape who looked away first, turning away from Harry to address the class as a whole. The rest of the class turned away too, but Harry continued to glare hard at Snape, and only stopped when Hermione's calming hand on his arm brought him back to his senses. He mouthed _thanks _at her, and she gave him a look filled with worry and anxiety before turning back to the front of the classroom.

"Of course," Snape was now saying, "in giving you such unrestricted access to ingriedients that you would otherwise find difficult to obtain, I am also giving you a _tremendous _amount of freedom and responsibility in your studies."

Here Snape paused, and moved around from his desk to the first set of workbenches, looking down on them all with what Harry knew as his most dangerous look. The class sat up straighter.

"I am giving the twelve of you more freedom than I have ever given _any _of my previous classes," he said now, in a deadly voice that was no more than a whisper, yet travelled around the room suprisingly loudly. "I am giving you this freedom for one reason only; because I believe that almost_ all _of you have the potential to become professional Potion Brewers, and I wish to provide you with the means in which you can achieve this. Do _not _mistake this gesture for kindness of any sort, or as a sign that I somewhat actually _like _any of you, perish the thought. Now, open your cupboards, situated at the base of your workbenches."

The class did so quickly, eager to see the contents of their supply cupboards, with Hermione opening hers faster than anyone. She gave a loud squeal of suprise and utter delight as she looked inside, and soon there were similar cries of suprise and astonishment echoing around the room as everyone opened their cupboards. Harry, now quite curious as to what was so amazing about a supply cupboard full of potions ingriedients, quickly opened the small door below him now, and he too gasped in astonishment and suprise at the contents.

The small door gave way to an obviously magically-expanded storeroom nearly as big as the potions classroom itself. Inside the storeroom were many wooden cupboards, boxes and large barrels, leaving only a thin piece of floorway as a pathway. The four walls, from top to bottom, were lined with shelves containing countless numbers of glass jars, tanks, bottles and goblets. Everything was labelled meticulously and clearly.

Harry's jaw dropped. There was no _way _that Snape had paid for all this by himself, Harry thought scornfully. It would have cost a bomb just for _one _supply cupboard, let alone _twelve _of the things. He pulled his head out of his supply cupboard to glare at Snape for lying, and noticed that everyone else's heads were still firmly in their cupboards. Some people, Hermione included, had actually crawled _inside _their cupboards, and had dissappeared from view. After a sharp command from Snape all withdrew reluctantly from them back into the classroom, Hermione last of all, and with such a strong expression of desire and longing as she slowly climbed out that Harry almost burst out laughing.

"These supply cupboards are _extremely _expensive," said Snape, "and as such I expect them to be used to their fullest. It is not my intention to limit your access to these ingriedients to only Potions lessons with me. Indeed, I expect each and every one of you down here at least twice a week to concoct potions of your own, preferably with a partner to assist you, should any accidents occur. I will be asking reports from each of you from time to time to ensure that you are all independently brewing your own potions.

"The seats you are sitting in now will be your seats for the next two years, to avoid any juvenile arguments about stolen ingriedients and the like," Snape said, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief, glad to know that he had Hermione at his side to help him if he screwed up. Snape flicked his wand again, and Harry noticed that a small brass plaque bearing his name appeared above the small door that led down into his supply cupboard.

"Now," Snape said, "today, as ever, will be a practical lesson, one in which we will see clearly see the improvements you will all make in your potions without being burdened to provide assisstance to your dim-witted friends at every turn. Indeed, it is my hope that both you and I will benefit from the absence of simpletons causing simple mistakes and accidents every two seconds, and that you will all achieve higher grades as a result of this."

Harry glared at Snape in defence of Ron and Neville (and _himself, _he realised guiltily), and he was not the only one, with several other students from various houses all glaring at Snape, presumably because he had insulted their friends. Snape snorted derisively in response to the glares, and carried on speaking.

"Chapter three of your new textbook lists a number of moderately difficult NEWT-level potions, from page nineteen to page thirty-one," he said. "Choose one of these potions, ensuring that you have _never _made it before, and brew it. I expect a sample of your completed potion on my desk by half past ten at the latest. You will find all the ingriedients you need in your personal supply cupboards. Remember to copy down the essay question from the blackboard. The essay is due in next Tuesday, three feet minimum. You may begin."

And with that Snape turned and swept off into his office, the door slamming behind him.

Hermione immediately opened her textbook and began flicking through it to the pages Snape had indicated, and Harry followed suit reluctantly, more interested in discussing Snape's strange behaviour. He leaned over towards Hermione to talk so no one else would hear him, and nearly got several papercuts in the face for his troubles. He leaned back quickly, well away from Hermione's violent page-flicking, and opted for whispering instead.

"Er, Snape's acting weird, don't you think?" he said uncertainly to Hermione, who he wasn't sure was listening to him; he carried on talking anyway. "I mean, giving us all these huge supply cupboards, and saying that we've all got the potential to become expert Potion Makers; you reckon someone's given him a weak Cheering Charm or something?"

"Well I heard that he's a lot fairer with his NEWT level Potions classes," Hermione said distractedly, her eyes not moving from her book. "You know, all the students who are here now actually _want _to be here, and I expect that he appreciates knowing that fact, and so he treats us all more fairly. And I doubt the fact that we all did well in our Potions OWL hurts either."

Harry snorted. "Speak for yourself," he muttered.

"Do you think I should do this one, Harry?" said Hermione suddenly, shoving her textbook under Harry's nose. Harry looked down at the page she was pointing at; '_The Dissulus Potion'_. He shrugged.

"The Dissulus Potion? If you want, but it's a bit of an easy one for you though, only takes thirty-five minutes to make."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.

"Oh really?" she said, looking slightly disbelieving at Harry's comment. "And how would _you _know, Harry?"

Harry felt irritated by her tone of voice, and snapped at her, "I'm not the village idiot you know, Hermione. It _is _in my ability to know how long it takes to brew an easy potion. It's not hard."

Hermione looked taken aback by Harry's words, and there was a guilty look in her eyes. She leaned towards him.

"That's not what I meant," she said apologetically, looking guiltily at him. "I. . I just meant. . .I just thought you were messing about, is all."

Harry stared hard at her for a minute, in which she squirmed under his gaze, but then he sighed and relaxed, and she breathed heavily in evident relief. Harry looked at her seriously.

"You really should give me and Ron a bit more credit sometimes you know," he said. "We're not as thick as you might think."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Harry cut her off, holding up his hand.

"It's alright, don't worry about it, just think about what I said. Now," he said, pointing at the page that Hermione had pushed in his face, "the Dissulus Potion is a Concealment Potion; it changes your eye colour to whatever colour you want, just by mentally willing the colour after you've taken the potion. Tonks made me memorise it over the summer. I've made it millions of times, I could do it in my sleep. _That's _how I know how long it would take to make. Believe me?"

Hermione nodded, still looking guilty, but there was now a bright sparkle of curiousity in her eyes, which harry knew would be hard to avoid. She looked around anxiously for a second before leaning in to Harry and speaking quietly.

"So," she said, "how much did you _really _learn over the summer? I mean you gave me and Ron a general picture of what lessons you had and everything, but you were _very _vague about it. Care to elaborate?"

Harry shrugged. "There's not that much to tell really. I got taught spells more than anything, really, tons of 'em. I got taught how to duel properly, and how to defend myself physically. Tonks taught me how to disguise myself as you know, and Snape taught me Occlumency. That's it really. I've got plans to teach a lot of what I learnt to _our _You-Know-What when we start it up again. Think you can wait that long?"

Hermione nodded reluctantly, looking dissappointed that Harry wouldn't go into more detail on his summer.

"Anyway," Harry said quickly, before she could begin to persist on him telling her what he had learnt, "shouldn't we be getting on with these potions?"

He prodded the textbook in front of him and, as he had predicted, Hermione's eyes widened in horror.

"Oh no!" she moaned, looking panicky. "We've wasted five whole minutes now just _chatting_, we're completely behind everyone else! Um, okay Harry, give me that."

She pulled Harry's textbook towards her, causing Harry's resting elbow to smash painfully into the workbench.

"Ow!" he said loudly, but Hermione ignored him completely, and flicked to page twenty four in his textbook. She raked the page quickly with her eyes and then turned to Harry.

"Ever made the Epirysus Potion before?" she asked, and Harry shook his head. Hermione nodded.

"Excellent," she said briskly, and pulled her own textbook back towards her. "You do that one then, and I'll do. . . ._this _one, the Websius Potion. And hurry up Harry, we're behind everyone else now."

Harry said nothing in return, knowing from experience that it was impossible to speak to Hermione when she was in one of her '_Busy Moods_', as he and Ron called them. Instead he began to gather his ingriedients together from his supply cupboard, the small door of which magically expanded to allow him entry when he approached it. He then began to brew his potion.

Although he had never made it before, Harry found the Dissulus Potion relatively easy to make, no mean feat considering it was a 'moderately-difficult' potion in seventh year NEWT-level terms. Harry attributed his success to three factors; the extra Potions research he had done over the end of the summer to ensure that Snape didn't humiliate him in his lessons (which he had managed to do anyway), the potion-brewing practice he had had in his lessons with Tonks over the summer, and, as he had found in his Potions OWL exam, the absence of Snape breathing down his neck and insulting him every two seconds.

Harry was first to hand Snape his potion sample when he returned to the classroom from his office at half past ten, putting on his most smug expression and smirking as he did so.

"There you go," he said fiercely, dropping it on the desk in front of Snape, "a perfectly-brewed Dissulus Potion. So much for it being harder for me than for others, eh Sir?"

Snape's only response to Harry's words was for his eyes to flash dangerously and for his hand to move longingly from the desk to his robe pocket, evidently yearning to pull his wand on Harry.

"Stay behind after class Potter," he hissed quietly, and turned away from him to Draco Malfoy, who had now come up to give Snape _his _potion sample. Harry turned his back dismissively on the two of them and strode back to his desk at the back of the room.

"Good job Harry," said Hermione as he joined her again. She looked impressed, Harry noted. "You brewed that potion excellently."

"Still suprised the village idiot can do it, eh?" Harry said without thinking, and this time Hermione didn't look guilty as she had last time, but angry.

"Harry, what's wrong with you today?" she said, giving him a strange look. "I compliment you on doing well, and all you do is bite my head off! I _don't _think you're a village idiot for god's sake, and neither do I think Ron is one. And just because you don't see it as much as you'd like, it _doesn't _mean I don't respect the two of you. And if you're going to be like this all day, please just don't talk to me, talk to the other village idiot, heaven knows you're _acting _like one!"

Harry looked at her angry profile in suprised defiance for a moment, thinking up a comeback, before sighing heavily, looking down at the floor and rubbing the bridge of his nose, and feeling ashamed at his behaviour. He looked up at her sheepishly.

"I'm sorry Hermione," he said softly to her. "it's just. . .I'm not really getting enough sleep at the moment. It's making me snappy. I didn't mean it. Sorry."

Hermione smiled consolingly at him, and rubbed his arm comfortingly.

"Don't worry about it," she said soothingly, continuing to rub his arm. "Just try and get some more sleep, okay?"

Harry nodded, promising that he would, and Hermione smiled at him and opened up her mouth to speak.

"You really need to sleep to know Harry, I know it might. . ."

"Miss Granger!" Snape's cold voice came cutting across Hermione's soothing one. "Your sample, please."

Hermione squeezed Harry's arm before going up to give Snape her potion sample. Harry shook his head to bring himself back to reality, and quickly packed up his ingriedients. The bell rung as Hermione returned, and Harry said he'd catch up with her and Ron next lesson, as Snape wanted to talk to him. She gave him a nervous look. "Don't lose your temper Harry," she warned, and Harry promised that he wouldn't. She gave him a doubtful look before leaving the classroom alone.

Harry waited until the classroom had emptied completely before approaching Snape's desk, where Snape was sitting rigidly in his chair following Harry with his eyes. Harry sat down in the chair opposite Snape and looked back at him impassively, feeling calmed by his and Hermione's earlier conversation.

"Well well Potter," Snape said, running a quill through his long, pale fingers as he spoke, "it seems that you have finally achieved a measure of success in brewing a potion. I must commend you; it has only taken you five years to manage it."

Harry said nothing, but balled his hands into fists below the desk, the calmness Hermione had briefly granted him with effectively gone. Snape leaned forwards over the desk, towards Harry.

"You are in this class for one reason, Potter," he said icily, his eyes glittering, "and that is because of your interfering head of house. I assure that if I had _my _way, you would not even _look _at another potion for the rest of your life. Furthermore. . ."

"Is this why you kept me behind Professor?" interrupted Harry loudly. "The point is I _am _here now, and so everything you've just said is pointless information. So is this why you've kept me behind? So you could tell me loads of rubbish about how I'm an idiot, and how much you hate me? Because quite frankly, _Sir, _I've got better things to do with my time."

Snape's eyes flashed dangerously, and he stood up and leaned over the desk so that his and Harry's noses were almost touching, the loathing in his eyes startling Harry slightly.

"You are toeing a very thin line Potter," Snape hissed at him, his eyes maleveont as they glared at him, "and you are _severely _testing my patience. Your favouring head of house may have got you _in _this class, but believe me when I say that she has no power whatsoever to _keep _you in it, should I feel that there is a legitimate reason to dismiss you from it. Insolence, Potter, I feel is a _very _legitimate reason to dismiss someone from my class. So, from now on, please keep your ridiculous juvenile comments and attitude to yourself, for all our sakes. You benefit no one, least of all yourself."

Harry, with a great effort, gave no outward reaction to Snape's words, and did not answer him back. After a minute of fierce denial he cleared his head and sighed inwardly, accepting grudgingly that maybe there _was _some reasoning to his hated professor's words. He did not let Snape see this acceptance, however.

Snape was now roughly throwing Harry a scroll of parchment, which he caught instinctively before it hit him in the face.

"These are the details of your OWL repeat in January," Snape said impassively. "It highlights what areas you should concentrate on in your revision, and so forth. The conditions of your three-week trial period in this class will depend on the level of your work over the next three weeks, both practically with your potions, and theoretically with your essays and research. That is all. Now get out of my sight."

"With pleasure," Harry snarled, and shouldered his bag and strode quickly out of the Potions classroom, away from Snape, and up to the library, his blood boiling and his head throbbing with hatred for Snape. He attempted to calm his mind and use Occlumency to clear it as he walked, causing him to trip up several times in the process, which just made him even _more_ angry.

By the time he reached the library however he had calmed down considerably, and managed to read a further ten pages of _Secteral Spell Creation _(by Sebastian Mobrow) by the time the bell went, the sound of which forced him to hurriedly exit the library and leave his book wide open on the table, his mind filled yet again with a strong determination to create the spell to defeat Voldemort as quick as he could.

The rest of the day passed quickly for Harry. His first Healing lesson with Healer Elfrida was cancelled for some unknown reason (which gave Harry another two hours in the library), Hagrid's new creatures had not yet arrived for their Care of Magical Creatures (so they spent the time chatting), and after lessons Harry sat with Ron and Hermione and wrote the Potions essay Snape had set in their lesson (_'discuss the extent to which the Draught of Living Death can be considered a lethal and dangerous potion'_). At half past seven they all went down to the Great Hall for dinner, with Harry beginning to feel nervous about his duel with Vanya in less than an hour.

"So why Vanya's so bothered about you doing your best in lessons?" Ron said inquistively as the three of them sat down at the Gryffindor table and began to pile their plates with food. Ron and Hermione did, at least; Harry was feeling too nervous to each much, and settled on a few chips. He shrugged at Ron's question.

"No idea. Probably something to do with me being the hero of the wizarding world, and everyone wanting me to be as strong as I can," he said bitterly, stabbing his fork into his chip savagely. "Yeah, that makes sense doesen't it?"

Ron and Hermione did not answer him, but looked uncomfortably down at the floor and avoided Harry's eyes. The next few minutes were spent eating in silence, before. . .

"Do you think you can beat him?" Ron said suddenly, and he and Hermione looked at him curiously. Harry thought about it for a second.

"I'm not sure," he said slowly. "I mean I've never seen him in a real Duel, so I don't know how good he really is. Then again, I _have _beat Kingsley before, and he and Vanya are partners as Aurors, so I _might_ have a cha. .

"_You _beat Shacklebolt in a duel?" Hermione said suddenly, staring at him incredulously, as was Ron. Harry nodded.

"Yeah, in the summer. Beat him four times," he said, proud of this achievement. Ron and Hermione stared at him even more incredulously. "Never beat Moody though, he was too good."

"You need to give me and Hermione a _proper _explanation of what you did over the summer," Ron demanded, still looking extremely shocked at Harry's revealation that he had beaten Kingsley. "I mean, how much must you have been taught to have beaten an _Auror _in a Duel?"

Harry shrugged. "I had ten-hour lessons _every day_," he said, remembering how freqeuently knackered he had been when he had collapsed in bed every night in the summer, "you're sure to learn a lot when you're being taught like _that_, aren't you?"

"Well of course you are, but you still didn't answer our question," Hermione said. "Are you going to give us a proper explanation of your summer then?"

Harry sighed. "Yeah of course I will, just not right now okay? It's quarter to eight now, I better get going."

Ron and Hermione nodded, and Harry stood up, his stomach churning slightly. He glanced up at the staff table as he did so, and noticed that Vanya was not there. He swallowed.

"Good luck Harry," said Ron next to him, patting him on the back supportingly, and Harry nodded at him. Hermione looked up at him as well.

"Just try your best, Harry," she said, and Harry nodded at her as well. Ron turned to her.

"What do you mean '_just try your best Harry_'?" he said. "He's beaten _Kingsley Shacklebolt, _who is an _Auror, _no less than _four times_, Hermione. Do you really think he's going to lose?"

"I never said he was going to lose," snapped Hermione back. "All I said was that he should try his best, and that doesen't necessarily mean I think his best isn't good enough to beat him, does it? But you just hear what you want to from a conversation Ron, don't you?"

"Why would I _want _to hear something like that?" Ron retorted, and Harry cleared his throat quickly to shut him up. Both Ron and Hermione looked up at him with wide eyes, looking suprised that he was still there. Harry fought down a laugh

"I'm going now, okay?" he said. Ron and Hermione nodded.

"Good luck Harry," said Ron. "I _know _you'll beat him," he said, narrowing his eyes at Hermione, who appeared nonplussed by this. She looked up at Harry.

"Just try your best, Harry. _Which, _might I add, I feel is good enough to beat Vanya," she said quickly, before Ron could say anything. Harry grinned at her and Ron.

"Thanks. I'll see you in the common room later, okay?"

"Of course," said Hermione, "we'll wait up for you."

Ron nodded in agreement, and Harry, taking a deep breath, turned and walked out of the Great Hall, into the Entrance Hall, and up to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

_Okay, _he told himself as he walked, _don't be nervous, you're no pushover, you've Duelled Death Eaters and beat them, you've Duelled Aurors and beat them, including Kingsely Shacklebolt, who's an amazing Dueller, and. . .now there's an idea!_

Checking no one was looking, Harry turned sideways into a shadowy corridor and held his right hand up to his face, where a silver ring was situated on his finger in front of his mouth.

"_Narro Kingsley Shacklebolt_," he whispered to the ring.

There was nothing for a few seconds, but then suddenly Harry could hear the Auror's slow, measured voice in his ear, speaking as if he was standing right in front of Harry. Harry started at the strange sensation.

"_Good evening Harry,_" Kingsley Shacklebolt's voice said in his ear, _"to what do I owe this pleasure? Is there anything wrong?_"

"Er, wrong?" said Harry out-loud, feeling a bit stupid. "Um, no, nothing's wrong, I just need some tips."

"_Tips_?" said Kingsley, sounding slightly wary. "_Tips for what, Harry?_"

Harry sighed. "Don't worry, I'm not planning on doing anything stupid like going after Voldemort," he said wearily, and Kingsley answered immediately.

"_I am glad to hear it. So then, what do you need tips for then_?"

"A Duel," answered Harry. "I have to Duel Vanya. .sorry, Professor Vanya, in, hold on. . . ten minutes, and I was wondering if you had any tips on how to beat him. You know, considering how you've been Auror partners for so long and all. Have you got any?"

There was silence for a few seconds, in which Harry tapped his ear as if it was broken, before Kingsley answered him.

"_Harry, Mahan's. .sorry, Professor Vanya's Duelling style is a lot like your own; it is based on sharp calculation, speed, and power. Now, as you know from fighting me throughout the summer, my style is based on patience and deliberate miscalculation, as well as turning my opponent's strength against him or her. You have Duelled me, and indeed beaten me, enough times now to have a firm grasp on this style, which may now come in useful against your professor. My tips to you for defeating Professor Vanya, Harry, are thus; you either attempt to win by outmatching him in speed, calculation and power, as is your wont when Duelling; or you adopt my style of Duelling, and attempt to turn his own speed and power against him. Both are risky strategies Harry, considering you have never Duelled against him before, but they are your best hope of defeating him. Personally, I would reccomend that you adopt my style for this duel. As I have told you before Harry, power and speed are useless when faced with someone who simply turns them against you, and your professor has not once beaten me in a Duel when I have used this style. However, I know it is not in your nature to fight a duel in such a way, but this is my advice; take it or leave it._"

Harry nodded, although he knew that Kingsley could not see him do so. "Thank you for your advice, Sir; but you already know which strategy I'm going to go for."

"_I do,_" said Kingsley, sounding amused. "_All I can do then is wish you luck. Can I request that you call me afterwards to let me know how it turned out?_"

"Of course," Harry replied. "I've got to go now though, I'm going to be late."

"_Certainly Harry. And good luck._"

"Thank you Sir," Harry said, and lowered the ring from his mouth, effectively cutting off his communication with Kingsley Shacklebolt. He jogged the rest of the way to the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, and took a deep breath before pushing the door open.

Professor Vanya was leaning against his desk facing the door when Harry entered, with all the tables and chairs already pushed up against the walls. His eyes locked on Harry's immediately, and he withdrew his wand. Harry did the same.

"Mr Potter," said Vanya, nodding at him. "Very punctual, I see. Now, if I feel that you are holding yourself back this time, I will not hesitate in dismissing you from my class. You are not to hold yourself back in any way whatsoever. There are only two rules in this Duel; no Dark Arts Spells, and _no _Unforgivables. Do we understand eachother?"

Harry nodded, not interested in talking but just wanting to get on with it. He rolled up his sleeves and walked down the classroom towards Vanya, who in turn stood up straight and walked up the classroom towards him.

They met in the middle of the classroom, and bowed to eachother, neither taking their eyes off the other's face. They then both turned and took five paces back from eachother, making them ten feet apart. Harry raised his wand high above his shoulder, and Vanya did the same. He began the countdown.

"One . . . two . . . three. . ._Prosterno_!"

"_Vapulus_!" Harry cried at the same time, and the spells collided with eachother in the middle of the classroom and richochetted around the classroom, smashing into tables and chairs and knocking things flying. Harry and Vanya ignored all this and began to circle eachother, both their wands raised.

"_Everbero_!" Vanya cried suddenly, but Harry sidestepped the spell easily.

"_Durus Pulsus_!"

_That _one Harry was _not _expecting, and he barely avoided it hitting him in the thigh by turning sideways, pointing his wand at Vanya at the same time as he turned.

"_Durus Pulsus_!" he cried, and Vanya barely put up a shield in time to deflect the spell.

"_Noceo_!" Harry cried immediately afterwards, and his spell hit Vanya in the shoulder, making him stagger. That was all though, and he immediately came back on the offensive.

"_Stupefy_!"

Harry deflected the spell with his wand and sent it back to Vanya, who sidestepped it quickly and pointed his wand at one of the tables in the corner.

"_Animatus Canis_!"

The table transfigured into a large boarhound, which went immediately for Harry, who didn't waste any time.

"_Abolesco_!" he said, turning himself invisible for thirty seconds and stepping sideways, making Vanya's quickly-fired disarming charm miss him. The dog, confused at Harry dissappearing, stopped short, and then turned and ran at Vanya.

"_Evanesco_!" Vanya said casually, and the snarling boarhound dissappeared in a black puff of smoke. He pointed his wand at himself.

"_Munimentum_," he said, and Harry cursed; Vanya had created a shield all around himself, which made the prospect of catching him by suprise by his invisibility redundant. _Just going to have to destroy it then_, Harry thought, wiping his sweating brow as he pointed his wand at Vanya's circular purple shield.

"_Eradico_!"

Harry's spell shattered Vanya's shield completely, but caused no harm to Vanya himself. In addition Harry turned visible again as the spell made impact, and Vanya quickly pointed his wand at him.

"_Minuo_!"

The spell caught Harry's left forearm, and he felt the skin there split open and blood quickly soak his arm as the wound took hold. Gritting his teeth, he pointed his wand at Vanya.

"_Penetro Sopor_!"

"_Declino_!"

Vanya's deflecting spell knocked Harry's spell into a chair, which Vanya quickly ducked behind. Harry quickly pointed his wand at it.

"_Exussum_!"

The wooden chair went up in flames immediately, and Vanya vanished it and jumped backwards, pointing his wand at Harry.

"_Propero_ _Fluvius_!"

A stream of water came pouring out of Vanya's wand extremely fast, hitting Harry in the face and blinding him momentarily. He jumped aside from it and cast an all-around shield around himself quickly, feeling a spell from Vanya bounce off it as soon as he had done so. He pointed his wand at Vanya and cast a stunning spell, and wasn't suprised when it was deflected easily. Harry reinforced his shield, and began to circle Vanya again.

Harry knew he was struggling now; he was soaking wet, his left forearm was bleeding profusely, and he was completely on the defence. Vanya, on the other hand, was bone-dry, and his only injury was his right shoulder which Harry had hit earlier, and which he frequently rubbed with his left hand when he had the chance. Harry knew that this duel was going to have to end soon; either he came up with a strategy to defeat Vanya quickly, or Vanya would send one simple spell and he would be done. _Think Potter_, he said to himself, still circling Vanya. _Think. . ._

"_Eradico_!"

The spell caught Harry by suprise, but luckily his shield protected him from harm, the shield itself shattering on the impact. _Lucky that spells not anymore powerful than it already is, _Harry thought vaguely, as he sidestepped a disarming charm. And then it clicked.

_That's it! _

_Well, it's worth a shot _Harry thought grimly, as he deflected another one of Vanya's spells. _Come on then Potter, _he thought firmly, circling Vanya again, _let's go then._

Filled with new determination, Harry deflected another spell with his wand, forcing Vanya to jump sideways, giving Harry a chance.

"_Expelliarmus_!"

Vanya ducked the spell however, but Harry was ready.

"_Stupefy_!"

Vanya jumped backwards from his position on the floor and stood up quickly, pointing his wand at Harry again.

"_Propero_ _Fluvius_!"

Harry wasn't caught by suprise this time though, but sidestepped immediately and pointed his wand at the water still streaming towards him.

"_Crudesco_!"

The stream of water froze in the air, turning immediately to ice and falling heavily to the ground, where it shattered loudly. Harry jumped further to the side to avoid the shards flying everywhere, and Vanya was forced to put up an all-around shield. Harry grinned and raised his wand.

"_Eradico_! _Expelliarmus_!"

Harry's plan worked. His first spell shattered Vanya's shield, and his following disarming charm hit Vanya square in the chest, making his wand fly forwards into Harry's left hand, while Vanya himself went flying backwards into the tables and chairs at the side of the classroom, cracking his head on the side of a table and falling to the floor unconscious. Harry dropped both his and Vanya's wands, panting heavily and holding his bleeding arm painfully, and collapsed to the ground as well, falling unconsious in a matter of seconds.


	10. Chapter Ten: Confessions

_Harry Potter and the Path of War_

_Chapter Ten: Confessions:_

Pain.

That was Harry's first and foremost feeling, as he regained consciousness and slowly opened his eyes from the floor of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. It took him a few seconds to remember exactly _why _he was laying on the floor of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, feeling as if he'd been run over repeatedly by the Knight Bus, but as the cut on his arm blossomed with fresh pain and he looked down at it with wide eyes, he remembered fully his destructive duel with Vanya.

Vanya.

Hitting his head and falling to the floor, unmoving.

_Shit!_

Harry pulled himself to his feet quickly, crying out at the pain it caused, and quickly looked around the classroom to find where Vanya had fallen.

He found him at the side of the classroom, lying on the floor next to the wooden chairs and tables where Harry remembered he had seen him fall. Now however several chairs had fallen on him, three on his legs and two on his chest and neck, and a toppled table laying next to him looking as if it had only narrowly missed his head. He was still not moving.

Harry raced over to him immediately and kicked away the chairs covering his body, sending them flying into different directions around the classroom, and pressed the side of his head to his professor's chest. After a second the sound and vibration of Vanya's beating heart against his head filled him with relief and he raised his head, wiping his sweating forehead on his arm as he reached for his wand.

Except his wand was not there, and Harry growled in frustration and turned around to look for it. He found Vanya's wand first, near to a small pool of blood which Harry assumed was his, and shrugged; it would work just as well for the spell he needed to use.

Racing back to Vanya, Harry held the wand in his hand as steadily as he could considering the pain he was in, and pointed it at his professor's chest.

"_Enervate_," he said.

Vanya's eyes snapped open immediately, and, seeing Harry leaning over him with his wand pointed at his chest, grabbed him by the throat with his right hand.

Harry ripped his hand away in a flash and grabbed Vanya's throat with _his_ hand, pinning him to the ground and pointing the wand in his other hand firmly between his professor's eyes. Vanya held his hands up in a sign of surrender straight away.

"No attack intended there, Mr Potter," he said raspily, finding it hard to talk with Harry's hand pressed tightly against his throat. "That's just my instinctive reaction to being _Enervated. _It's got me out of many troublesome spots in the past, let me tell you."

Harry showed no reaction to his words, and Vanya sighed, or at least attempted to sigh.

"Mr Potter, the duel is over. You have won. Now release me."

Harry pulled his arm away slowly from Vanya's throat, not being able to keep it there much longer anyway as the pain from his forearm cut began to make his arm shake. Vanya sat up slowly, gripping his shoulder and gritting his teeth against the pain as he did so. Harry watched him carefully, his wand still pointed at him even if he wasn't holding him down anymore. Vanya saw this as he grimaced and gripped his shoulder, and smirked at Harry's alert profile.

"You can put that wand down now," he said, nodding at him as he continued to grip his shoulder tightly. "I have already told you; you have won. The duel is over."

"This might be a trick," Harry said quietly, determined not to lose his concentration by _talking_ to Vanya. "You tried to attack me as soon as I revived you, but I pushed you away before you could try anything else; how do I know that you're not just saying this now as a diversion?"

Vanya stopped rubbing his shoulder momentarily and stared hard at Harry, a searching expression on his face. Harry looked back emotionlessly, and kept Vanya's own wand raised against him and the first syllable of the stunning spell ready on his tongue. They stared at eachother for a long time before Vanya stirred first and spoke.

"You don't," he said at length, removing his gaze from Harry's and sitting up straighter. Harry followed his movements with his wand. "Of course you don't, you _can't_ know, whether I'm saying all this as a diversion. But I am a man of my word, Mr Potter, and when I say you have beaten me, I _mean_ what I say; you have nothing more to fear from me. Besides, if I actually _did _want to attack you, I could have done it at _any _point in this little conversation of ours. Observe."

Vanya's right arm rose upwards suddenly, and the next thing Harry knew he had a wand pointed between _his _eyes. He stared down the length of it and into Vanya's hard eyes in shock.

"How the hell did you do that?" he asked him incredulously, who nodded at the wand in Harry's hand in reply.

"Put that down and I'll show you," he requested. Harry made no move to do so.

"You first," he said firmly, and Vanya smirked at him.

"Smart move," he said, and lowered his wand and tossed it to the side of the classroom, out of his reach. Harry, accepting finally that Vanya was telling the truth, did likewise, tossing Vanya's first wand to the other side of the classroom. Vanya looked up at him again, a strange expression on his face.

"You're a very suspicious young man, aren't you Mr Potter? Quite a paranoid person for your age."

"It's better to be suspcious than dead," Harry responded quickly, and Vanya looked at him sharply for a moment, the long ugly scar that ran from his left eye to the middle of his chin rippling as his face muscles went taut. He nodded approvingly.

"Indeed it is, Mr Potter, indeed it is. . .still. . ."

His voice trailed off into silence, and he gripped his shoulder suddenly in obvious pain, his breath coming out in a series of pain-filled hisses. Noticing that Harry had seen him do this, Vanya smiled grimly at him and nodded down to his shoulder.

"You've broken the bone," he said, gripping it tightly again as Harry felt a slight pang of guilt. Vanya continued. "What spell did you use? The Adflicto Curse?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I used the Striking Spell. The Everbero Curse?"

Vanya stared at him in apparent shock and raised his eyebrows, looking quite taken aback. He quickly found his composure however.

"I have never known a sixteen-year-old be able to break a bone with a simple Striking Spell before," he said quietly, giving Harry a calculating and searching look that made Harry snort in anger. He glared at his professor, who seemed to sense his anger and lowered his gaze quickly to his wounded arm, and nodded at it.

"That needs cleaning up," he said. "You've lost a lot of blood, you'll need a Blood Replenshing Potion as well as some Healing work. Nothing too serious though. Oh, and I think you should consider a drying charm as well."

Harry looked down; he had forgotten that he was still soaking wet from Vanya's water spell, with his now water-heavy clothes clinging tightly to his skin. Shivering slightly, he looked down at the deep gash on his arm and grimaced; the cut ran from just above his hand to a few inches below his elbow, and the area around the cut was covered with crusty dry blood that had soaked into his skin, the only dry part of his skin that he could feel. He looked down again at Vanya, still on the floor, who was now slowly rotating his injured shoulder while looking up at him. Harry shrugged.

"I've had worse," he said to him, and Vanya raised his eyebrows, although he did not ask Harry the question he was obviously thinking. Instead he attempted to stand up, and when he staggered and fell back to the floor Harry extended his unijured left arm to him and pulled him with a great effort to his feet, making them both stumble slightly.

"Thank you," he said to Harry as he stood up straight again, and held out his hand. Harry went to shake it, but Vanya just smirked at him.

"We'll save the honourable conductions for later, Mr Potter. _Accio Wands,_" he said, and his own two wands along with Harry's flew from separate ends of the classroom and into his outstretched hand. He handed Harry his wand back immediately, and then gestured for Harry to follow him to the side of the room to a large wooden cabinet that stretched all the way to the ceiling. Harry followed him slowly, as Vanya was holding his injured shoulder and hissing in pain with every step he took, probably from the pressure his footsteps were putting on his shoulder. Harry did not feel guilty about the damage he'd done to his professor's shoulder; after all, he'd done _much_ worse to Kingsley and Remus over the summer, and Vanya _had _used a Severing Spell on him, so, in Harry's opinion, he deserved everything he got.

Vanya muttered some words to the large cabinet as Harry approached and it's oak door sprung open to reveal a giant storeroom of potions, and the Auror began to rummage around the middle shelves for something. Harry applied a drying charm to himself as Vanya did this, and felt the benefit immediately. "I'm thankful this thing escaped harm," Vanya muttered to the inside of the cabinet as he rummaged in it, "it'd cost more than I'm worth to replace it. Ah, here we go."

Vanya took his head out of the cabinet and straightened up, now holding a small teaspoon and a glass jar labelled '_BR Potion_,' which simply looked like a glass jar full of blood. The warmth Harry had felt from the drying charm abruptly vanished and his stomach churned, as it had done every time he'd needed to take the potion in the summer. Setting it down on the table next to the large cabinet, Vanya pulled off the lid of the Blood Replenishing Potion one-handed and dipped the teaspoon into it, which he then handed to Harry.

"Straight down," he said, and Harry complied immediately, ignoring the taste of the potion and swallowing it down quickly. Vanya snatched the teaspoon back as soon as Harry had poured the potion into his mouth, and filled it with potion again before handing it back to Harry.

"Got to get three spoonfuls down really quickly," he said, snatching the spoon back again as Harry swallowed another mouthful of the blood-red potion. After he'd taken another one and Vanya had put the potion back in the cabinet, he began to feel the familiar sensation in his arm, where he knew the cut was. He gasped when he looked down at it, as the dry blood around the cut was bubbling, and fresh blood was pouring out of his arm; the potion never failed to shock him, despite the many times he had had it over the last six weeks.

"_Sano_," Vanya said from next to him suddenly, pointing his wand at the cut, and Harry watched in fascination, just as he had done two days ago on the Hogwarts Express, as the skin pulled itself back together, to leave only a crooked white line across his forearm. He looked at Vanya.

"Cheers," he said, and twisted his arm around for a few seconds. It felt okay, just a bit stiff, but he reckoned that'd wear off after a while. He nodded at Vanya's shoulder.

"I reckon _that's _worse than my cut," he said, and Vanya chuckled darkly and shook his head.

"Like you said Mr Potter;_ 'I've had worse'_."

Harry grinned at Vanya, who was now undoing the top buttons of his robes. When he had undone them halfway down his chest he slowly slid them off his left shoulder, revealing beaten purple and blue skin and a number of lines _under _his skin that looked like veins, but were too numerous to actually _be_ veins. Harry breathed in sharply at the sight of his shoulder.

"These are fracture marks," Vanya said to him, tracing lightly the thin lines under his skin. "You've practically shattered my shoulder, and you only used a Striking Spell to do it. I still can't quite believe that's what you used," he said, shaking his head slowly and staring at Harry. Harry said nothing, and avoided his professor's gaze, looking instead at the man's destroyed shoulder.

"I need you to help me here," Vanya said suddenly, making Harry jump, and he looked Vanya in the face.

"What do you need me to do?" Harry said, and Vanya frowned grimly.

"I need you to help me up to the Hospital Wing. I'm not going to be able to sort this shoulder out by myself, and I don't think you'll be able to heal it, will you?"

"I can numb it for a while and bandage it up until we get to the Hospital Wing," Harry offered, and Vanya raised his eyebrows, looking suprised at Harry's words. He nodded at Harry.

"Just bandage it up, the numbing might disturb the fracture marks, and they look bad enough already."

Harry nodded, and pointed his wand down at just above his own hand. "_Fascia_," he said, concentrating hard, and a bandage materialised out of thin air and dropped into his hand. He then moved towards Vanya and begin wrapping the bandage around his shoulder and under his arm, who did not wince as he applied it.

"You continue to impress me Mr Potter," Vanya said, as Harry wrapped the bandage around the fracture marks on the top of his back. "You can outduel a Dark Arts professor in less than ten minutes, you can destroy a man's shoulder with a simple striking spell, and you can conjure bandages out of thin air all before you're even seventeen. I can see I've got a very good student here."

Harry did not answer him, but just snorted and carried on bandaging up his professor's fractured shoulder. He caught a glimpse of Vanya's face as he did so; he was staring at him strangely.

"Have you nothing to say to that Mr Potter?" he questioned, sounding slightly taken aback. "I praise you in such a way as that, and all you can do is snort?"

Harry finished bandaging Vanya's shoulder before speaking, tying the bandage together with a rough knot and stepping back from him to look him in the face.

"Well do you really think I _want _to be able to do these things?" he said hotly. "Think about the reason _why _I can do these things, and _then _consider how much your '_praise_' is worth," he said bluntly, not in the mood at _all _for a conversation about how amazing his abilities are. Vanya seemed unmoved by his bluntness, but instead just stared at Harry for a minute before speaking again.

"You are right Mr Potter," Vanya said, his gaze not moving from Harry's face. "I suppose you _would _rather not have these abilities, considering the reasons _why _you have them. But you _do _have them Mr Potter, and there is a _reason _why you have them; I hope you have by now understood and accepted that."

"Yes I've accepted that," Harry said testily, getting angrier and angrier with Vanya by the minute. "Are you just going to be another one who lectures me about how I must accept and understand the position that I'm in? I've _already _accepted it, I don't need anyone to bloody well tell me to accept it for Merlin's sake!"

"I never meant to belittle you Mr Potter," Vanya responded immediately. "Indeed, I believed that you already _had _accepted the position that you were in; I was just clarifying this belief in my own mind."

Harry did not respond, and after a minute or so of silence between the two of them Vanya spoke again.

"I will _not _make you perform to the best of your ability in class in the future Mr Potter," he said, and Harry looked up from the broken table he had been idly staring at and into Vanya's scarred face. "I will leave the extent to which you perform to the best of your abilities up to you; but only at one condition."

"What condition is that then?" asked Harry immediately.

"That once a week we meet in this room to Duel," Vanya said.

"You want to Duel with me once a week?" Harry said, and Vanya nodded. "Why?"

"So we can learn from eachother," Vanya responded, to Harry's puzzlement. Vanya buttoned up his robes and stood up straight to look Harry in the eye. "Allow me to make something plain, Mr Potter; I do not consider you one of my students. I have too much respect for you for that. Now this respect does _not _stem from ridiculous articles in _The Daily Prophet _and _The Quibbler _that cite how much of a '_hero_'you are, nor from the fact that you somehow defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named when you were a year old, but from my experiences and observations of you as a person. Of course in _other _ways you _are _still simply a sixteen year old boy and student, who has much to learn and is in no ways a grown man, but those areas are not _my _concern. The respect _I _have for you stems from the way in which you conduct yourself, both in your life with the burden that you carry, and with your fighting skills, two areas in which I _do_ believe you to be a grown man, despite the fact that I have only been on speaking terms with you for two days thus far. The way you fought me in our Duel showed me in particular your combat maturity, and I believe I can learn a lot from you. I also believe you could learn a lot from me. I feel that you and I together would be able to develop our individual combat skills if given the chance, and these proposed Duels of mine, I feel, are the very chances that we need. So, do you agree to my proposition?"

Harry did not answer Vanya straight away, but instead leaned on the wooden bench beside the potions cabinet and looked away from him to the door. Some of Vanya's words had struck him deeply; his belief that he, a fully-trained _Auror,_ could learn something from _him_, a sixteen-year old boy; the fact that he had completely disregarded both everything that had been written about him, and all the '_heroic_' acts he had done, and yet still respected him as a person, and _not _as some sort of superhero; and the fact that he had admitted that he _was _still just a normal sixteen year old boy in other ways. No one else, Harry felt, had ever summed him up in such a way before, and he felt somehow strengthened by Vanya's assessment of him. He turned back to him, straightened up fully from the bench, and looked the Auror in the face.

"I agree."

Vanya nodded, and extended his hand towards Harry's. Harry grasped his hand tightly and shook it.

"A good Duel today Mr Potter," was all Vanya said, and Harry nodded at him in agreement.

"A good Duel."

After Harry had helped Vanya up to the Hospital Wing and helped him convince Madam Pomfrey that the professor's shoulder injury had been caused by a fall down the marble stairs in the Entrance Hall (she actually seemed to think that it _was _Harry who had caused it for a second), Harry went straight to the library to carry on researching for his Spell Construction lesson with Dumbledore, ignoring the weariness his body felt. He found the library empty apart from two Ravenclaws he recognised from the year below in a corner talking furiously about a Charms project, and he settled down at his usual table in a dark corner to find the last book he'd been reading, _Secteral Spell Creation, _sitting closed where he'd left it earlier that day. After finding where he'd read to last time and reading a further two pages Harry slammed the book shut in anger, not being able to understand any of the Spell Construction terminology in the book, and sat with his head in his hands in frustration.

_How the hell am I ever going to create this spell if I can't even read a damn book on the subject? _he thought in despair, feeling his head spin and his stomach churn. _I can't even understand the words, how am I ever going to put it into practice and create a spell. . ._

_You're starting too high, _a different voice said. _You can't just expect to read the advanced stuff and be able to do it. You've got to start with the basics._

_But I need to learn it as quick as I can! _Harry argued. _The longer I take with this, the more people who are going to die!_

_Well the quickest way you're going to learn is from the start_, the irritating voice argued back, _you'll just be going round in circles trying to start at such an advanced level. You can't learn this in a day, you need to get a grip of the basics first._

Harry sighed and nodded reluctantly his agreement with the damn voice, and put _Secteral Spell Creation _back in the bookshelf that he'd arranged to be only Spell Construction books. Deciding it'd be best then to read his Spell Construction textbook cover-to-cover first, to understand the basics, he began to search for it on his specialised Spell Construction shelf, where he knew he'd seen it.

As he searched for the book, Harry thought about the Spell Construction lesson he had had with Nate the day before. Nate's explanation of the '_Five Aspects_' that they'd all need to understand in order to begin creating spells seemed a good place to start after reading his textbook in understanding the basics of Spell Construction, Harry decided; he'd read the entire textbook tonight, and then find a book tomorrow that went over all the aspects briefly, so that he could have a rough understanding of them by the time he had his lesson with Dumbledore.

_Come to think of it, I don't even know when that lesson is, _Harry realised suddenly, and contemplated using his new ring to contact Dumbledore to ask him, and then started, as he remembered that he'd promised to contact Kingsley after his Duel with Vanya to tell him how it'd gone. After finding the textbook (typically on the far right of the shelf considering he'd started looking on the far left) and putting it on his table ready to read, Harry left the library and turned sideways into a shadowy corridor that he knew was never used, put up a silencing charm around himself, brought his silver ring on his right hand up to his mouth and whispered, "_Narro Kingsley Shacklebolt_."

As before there was silence for a few seconds before Harry heard the Auror's voice in his ear, but then he heard him just as he had done so before.

"_Hello again Harry,_" Kingsley's measured voice said to him in his ear. "_It's been an hour since you Called me last; have you and Professor Vanya been Duelling all this time?_"

"Hello again Sir. And no we haven't been Duelling all this time, it's just that I, er, forgot I was supposed to Call you," Harry said sheepishly.

"_That's quite all right Harry_," said Kingsley, sounding amused again as he done earlier. "_So then, how did it go? Who won?_"

"_I did, Sir._"

"_You did? Congratulations Harry!_" Kingsley said, sounding quite suprised. "_I knew you could beat him if you put your mind to it, but I must admit I didn't think you'd be able to achieve it in your first Duel with him._"

"That's alright," Harry replied, "I'm still really suprised I managed it myself."

"_So, did he use the fighting style I said he would_?" Kingsley asked, and Harry nodded, before realising that Kingsley couldn't actually see him nodding.

"Uh, yeah, he did," he said out loud, feeling like an idiot, "it was _very _fast, I could barely keep up a lot of the time. He hit me with a fast stream curse and a severing spell, but I got him in the shoulder with a striking spell early on, and I think that slowed him down a lot." He didn't mention the fact that he'd fractured Vanya's shoulder in several places with the striking spell; he didn't want more compliments.

"_Yes, the severing spell _is _a particular favourite of Mahan's,_" Kingsley said, sounding disapproving. "_So, how did you manage to get the better of him in the end?"_

"Well to tell you the truth, I reckon it was just luck," Harry said sheepishly. "I was running out of strategies to use against him, and when he destroyed my shield with a shield shattering spell this idea came into my head, that if I hit him with a shield shattering spell and another spell straight after, the shield shattering spell would get rid of the shield, and the second spell would hit him before he had time to dodge it. So I fired a few spells at him and the next time he put up a shield I did that, and I hit him with a disarming charm which pushed him backwards into some chairs and knocked him unconscious."

There was silence for a while in Harry's ear, and again Harry tapped his ear as if it was broken. At length Kingsley spoke again.

"_Well first of all Harry, I don't think you can call you beating him 'luck'," _Kingsley said, his voice going stern. "_To be able to get into a position to put your plan into action you must have had to dodge a lot of spells, and did you in any way lure him into putting up a shield?_"

"Well I was hoping that he'd use the fast stream curse so I could put a crudesco charm on the water to turn it into ice, which I hoped would make him put up a shield. . ." Harry said, remembering sidestepping the water and pointing his wand at it immediately. . .

"_And did he do that_?" Kingsley asked suddenly, and Harry realised that he'd just trailed off from speaking. He shook his head and continued.

"Er, yeah he did," he said quickly. "I shot three curses at him, all of which he dodged, and then he fired off the fast stream curse. I sidestepped it quickly and turned it into ice, and he put up a shield to avoid all the flying ice, which is when I shot the two spells at him that shattered his shield and knocked him unconscious. And then I. .well, I'd, uh, won by that point."

"_Yes Harry, I gathered_," Kingsley said, sounding merry at Harry's over-excitement in describing his and Vanya's Duel. "_Well Harry, I can't see in any way how you winning against Mahan was luck; admittedly you took a few knocks yourself, but you hit him with a striking spell in the shoulder, and you dodged a fast stream curse quick enough to hit it itself with a curse, which is a remarkable feat; it shows those impossibly fast reflexes or yours. Oh yes, I remember _them _all right._"

Harry laughed, remembering all the times he'd dodged Kingsley's fastest curses in their summer lessons, and heard Kingsley laugh as well. "_Furthermore Harry,_" Kingsley's voice suddenly came back, "_your strategy was spot on for Mehan's style and for his preferred spells, and the fact that you formulated it mid-Duel, something we both know you had trouble with in your lessons with Nate in the summer, shows a remarkable development in your Duelling Thinking. So don't ever think you beat him by luck, Harry; it was nothing but. Congratulations. I'd shake your hand if I could, but you'll have to settle for verbal praise for the minute. Do you want me to inform Alastor of your victory_?"

Harry laughed. "Yeah, go on then, I'm sure he'll just have something negative to say though," he said, remembering the number of times Moody had told him he was doing well over the entire summer; _zero. _

Kingsley laughed as well. "_Yes, I'm sure you're right Harry_," he said, sounding merry again, "_although deep down you know he's proud of you_."

Harry laughed again, and said, "well I'd better go Sir, thanks for the congratulations and all that."

"_No problem Harry. And, on a more serious note, thank you again for what you did for me on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay you Harry._"

It took Harry a while to figure out what Kingsley was actually talking about, but after a few moments thinking he remembered; he had deflected a Cruciatus Curse, fired by Voldemort himself, away from Kingsley, and then brought Voldemort's attention on to himself, undoubtedly saving Kingsley's life in the process; he could see why Kingsley felt such a strong debt towards him.

"That's alright Kingsley," he said, "just make sure you call Voldemort by his real name and we're even."

"_That's not enough to repay a Wizard's Debt Harry_," Kingsley said, and his voice sounded very emotional now. "_The only thing I can think of to repay this Debt to you is to pledge my undying support and loyalty to you in your fight against He-Who-Must-Not. .sorry, Vol. .Volde. . Voldemort. I offer you my loyalty Harry; please accept it._"

"Don't offer your loyalty to me in particular Kingsley," Harry said, "but offer it instead to the fight against Voldemort in general. Offering your loyalty to me will mean nothing if I die. Offer your undying loyalty and support to the fight against Voldemort, as long as it continues, and I'll consider the Wizard's Debt repaid."

Kingsley was silent again for a minute, and Harry waited patiently for his response. When it came, Kingsley sounded very calm.

"_Very well Harry; I pledge my loyalty to the fight against Voldemort, as long as it may continue._"

Harry nodded, and this time did not care that Kingsley could not see him. "Thank you Kingsley; I consider the Debt repaid, so long as you stick to your word."

"_I will Harry, I will._ _I'll speak to you again soon."_

Harry felt a strange sensation in his ear suddenly, and realised that Kingsley had probably ended their call. He lowered the ring from his mouth, sighed deeply, and moved out of the shadowy corridor he had been standing in and went back into the library.

"Harry! Harry! Wake up!"

_Someone was shaking him, he could feel them. . ._

"Come on Harry mate, it's too late to be messing about in this damn library. ."

_In the library? What the hell am I doing here_?

"Please wake up Harry, we've been really worried about you. ."

Harry opened his eyes slowly and pulled up his head and body, feeling something sticky on his face as he did so. He peeled it off his skin lightly, and looking down at what it was realised it was the pages of a book. Rubbing his eyes and sitting up straight, he realised he was indeed in the library, and that it was completely dark save for a lamp held by a large freckled hand above his head.. Looking over his shoulder, he found Ron and Hermione standing over him, Ron holding the lighted lamp, looking both worried and tired. Hermione was holding Harry's Invisibility Cloak in one hand and the Marauder's Map in the other. _I must have fallen asleep while I was reading that book, _Harry realised. He turned round fully to Ron and Hermione, who stepped backwards to give him some room.

"What time is it?" he asked them.

"Half past eleven, although it probably feels later to you than what it is," Hermione answered him.

"Yeah, I'm suprised you haven't been caught in here tonight Harry, what with the way you were snoring," said Ron, and Harry smiled.

"But what are you _doing _in the library anyway Harry?" said Hermione anxiously, and somewhat suspiciously. "Did you have your Duel with professor Vanya?"

"Of course I did!" Harry said, stung at this remark. "What, you think I chickened out of it and hid in the library instead?"

"No, that's not what I said," Hermione said patiently, "I was just wondering if it had been cancelled and you'd decided to get some homework done. Anyway, _did _you have your Duel with professor Vanya?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, I did."

"So how did it go?" Ron broke in excitedly as Hermione opened her mouth to speak. "Did he beat you? You look knackered."

Harry shook his head. "Nah, I won," he said, and Ron grinned and Hermione's eyes went wide.

"Good one mate!" Ron said, slapping Harry on the back and shaking his head. "I still can't quite believe it really. I mean I'm not saying I _don't _believe you, because you know of course I _do _believe you, but it's just that, you know, it's hard to get your head round. . I mean Shacklebolt and Vanya are _Aurors _for Merlin's sake! So then, how _did _you beat him tonight?"

"Yes Harry, how did you beat him?" interjected Hermione, her usual bright look of curiousity shining in her eyes, and Harry sighed and relayed the story of the Duel again, but in more detail than he had done with Kingsley, and with occasional interruptions by Ron and Hermione. Ron whooped loudly when Harry told them about hitting Vanya with the striking spell, Hermione gasped when he revealed that Vanya had transfigured a table into a snarling boarhound, the two of them winced collectively when he showed them the scar on his forearm from Vanya's severing spell and told them in detail what he had done to Vanya's shoulder, and were both ecstatic at Harry's sidestepping of the fast stream spell and turning it into ice.

When he was done relaying the Duel, Ron whistled loudly. "Unbelievable mate, unbelievable. When did you say we're going to start up the DA again? I want to learn some of this stuff!"

Harry laughed. "Not tonight at any rate. Come on, let's get back to the Common Room before we get caught here."

Ron nodded his agreement, checking the Marauder's Map and still grinning at Harry's victory, but Hermione did not move. "Not yet," she said, and Harry and Ron looked at her in suprise.

"What do you mean '_not yet_'?" Ron questioned, turning to her. "We woke up sleepyhead here and made sure he's alright, what's left to do?"

Hermione did not answer Ron; instead she reached past Harry and picked up the Spell Construction textbook he'd been reading, and turned to him with a questioning look in her eyes. Harry sighed.

"Since when have you been this committed to your schoolwork Harry?" she said softly, making Harry look up at her in suprise at her tone. "And what's this sudden interest in Spell Construction?"

Harry avoided her eyes. "I just feel like a fresh start, all right? My O.W.L grades were terrible, and I don't want to do that badly again on my N.E.W.T.s. What's the big deal?"

"The '_big deal_,'" Hermione said, "is when you only take an interest in _one _subject, namely _Spell Construction. _Why the sudden interest Harry?"

"I'm _not _just concentrating on Spell Construction," Harry said, trying to sound convincing, "it's just that Spell Construction's easily the most difficult subject I'm doing this year, and so I want to get my head round it quickly so I can do well in it in my N.E.W.T.s. Honestly Hermione, I thought you'd be _happy _that I was working so hard."

"Well under normal circumstances I _would _be happy that you were working harder," Hermione said to him, before turning back to Harry. "It's just that, well me and Ron have been talking, and we want to know; is there anything wrong Harry?"

"She means is there anything _specifically _wrong mate," Ron said. "I mean we all know that there's a lot of crap you have to deal with _all _the time, but what we wanted to know is is there anything bothering you lately? You've seemed so. .I don't know, just different lately, like you're not all there. . ."

Ron trailed off, making strange motions with his hands and looking like he was thinking hard of something to say. Hermione sighed and shook her head at him.

"I think what Ron is trying to say is that you've been very distant lately Harry," (at this Ron pointed at Hermione with a triumphant look on his face and said, "_that's it! That's the word I was looking for!_"), "and that we're both really worried about you. You've changed so much since we last saw you, you seem so older and grimmer, but more than anything you just seem distant, like you're keeping a lot of things secret from the two of us. So are you?"

Harry sighed inwardly, feeling a slight pain in his chest. He had planned on telling Ron and Hermione about the _Lionheart _myth and his conversation with Arganual, but he knew he was too tired to have that conversation right then and there. But nevertheless the compulsion he felt to confide in his two best friends about _everything _he was feeling, just as he used to do with them, was _very_ strong, almost irrestibly so, but he knew, deep down, that he _couldn't _tell them everything, no matter how much he wanted. Trying to hold down his emotions, he attempted to buy himself time by asking the two of them a question.

"How have I changed then?"

"Well, to start with you're not a midget anymore," Ron said mock-thoughtfully, tapping his chin and making Harry smile. "Let's see, what else. . .you're not as skinny anymore, actually look well-fed for once. . .you're a lot more pale than usual . . ."

"Oh Ron stop being so trivial," Hermione said impatiently to him, and turned to Harry. "You've changed in many ways, Harry. There's been this dramatic improvement in your Duelling, your physical appearance like Ron said has changed considerably, and you're a lot more _serious _than you used to be. The way you threatened Malfoy on Monday and the way you punched him on the train on was a lot different to how you used to deal with him; it was scary just how serious you were. You just seem to be so much _older _than you were before the summer, like everything's suddenly a lot more serious. I'm not saying it wasn't before, I'm just saying that _you _as a person seem to be taking everything a _lot_ more seriously than you used to, like a lot has happened over the summer to make you this way. It's been hard for me and Ron to adapt to, and we're worried about you. So we want to know; what is it that's happened over the summer to change you so much?"

Harry looked into Hermione's concerned face and saw how worried she was, and turned away from her to Ron, who looked exactly the same. Sighing deeply, he turned away from the two of them and stared at one of the library windows, and at the leafless branches rustiling gently against the windowpane. Staring idly at this, he contemplated what really _had _changed him so much over the summer; his coming to terms with both Sirius' death and the prophecy; the vision of Voldemort torturing Ron and Hermione, and Voldemort's attempt in the vision to make him kill himself; Remus's hard-hitting words that when Voldemort was returned to full health, most likely around September, the _real _war would begin, words which had motivated him to push himself to his limit all summer, and then his consequental thoughts on seeing Voldemort at Platform Nine and Three Quarters that the second war had began; his acceptance, both by Dumbledore's words early in the summer and by his own thoughts on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, that he would have to one day become a murderer, whether he liked it or not, and that he would have to defeat Voldemort alone; his vow to himself the day after Voldemort's vision that he _would _win this war, no matter _what _it took, a vow that he had taken _very _seriously; the ten-hour-a-day training lessons every day of the week that had given him a lasting feeling of urgency and seriousness in the fight against Voldemort; the attack on him and Remus by the Death Eaters in Wisteria Walk, and the young dark-haired woman Auror who had told him after the attack that he gave people hope; the constant worrying about Voldemort and how powerful he and his Death Eaters were getting, particuarly after the Wisteria Walk attack; the unbearable knowledge, pressure and responsibility of the Line of the Protectors revealation from Dumbledore, that had more than anything else made him realise the extent to which his life was already planned out in battles and violence for him, no matter _what _he did to prevent it; the Death Eater attack on Platform Nine and Three Quarters, and the massacre there of seventeen students and eleven parents, all the names of which Harry knew he would _never _forget; and, finally, the revealation from Arganual the Chief Thestral that he was _Lionheart_, the High Protector and Guardian of the Great Forest, that led him to breakdown momentarily in the Forest. Harry sighed deeply, and put his head in his hands; yes, there had definitely been a lot to change him this summer.

"Harry?"

Harry started, and looked up. He'd forgotten that he was in the library with Ron and Hermione, and that they were still waiting for his answer. Looking up at their worried faces, Harry decided that he couldn't, no matter how bad he felt, push all his emotions on to the two of them; they were too good his friends to do that to. So, instead, Harry decided to only tell them _part _of the reasons why he had changed so much over the summer.

"Harry?" Hermione said again, putting a hand on his arm. Harry fought down the emotion striving to get out, and the impulse to break down and tell his best friends everything, and maintained a level voice as he spoke.

"A few things have happened that have made me change so much," he said to the two of them, who looked both relieved and wary that he was finally talking. "Firstly, you know, I had to accept Sirius' death, and that has taken a lot out of me. Secondly, those lessons I was having everyday made everything feel a lot more serious than it usually feels here at school. And thirdly, everything that happened on Platform Nine and Three Quarter's yesterday, with so many people dying, has changed me, and made things seem more serious to me. And by the way, the reason I gave for being in the library tonight _is _the real reason why I'm here. Oh, and I probably seem so much older Hermione because I've been hanging around with adults every single day of the summer, with only adults to talk to all summer. I'll probably get younger again once I've been around you two for a bit longer," he said, attempting to crack a joke and smiling.

Ron and Hermione smiled softly back at him, both looking uncomfortable and guilty in the aftermath of Harry's words, and looked down at the floor. Harry, sensing their guilt, jumped up from his seat, making them start and look at him in suprise.

"There's no need to feel guilty you two," he said, "you had every right to ask me what's bothering me, and what's changed me so much. But I'm fine now, I promise you. And if I'm not fine in the future, at least I know I've always got you two worrying about me, eh?"

The two of them chuckled quietly at his words, and Harry, sensing he hadn't fully cheered them up yet, snatched the Invisibility Cloak out of Ron's hand and pretended to examine it.

"Hmm, I'm not sure this is going to fit all of us anymore. . .lucky your old friend Harry knows an Invisibility Spell for himself isn't it?"

Ron laughed, and patted him on the back and grinned at him. "The boy wonder does it again!"

Harry grinned back at Ron, understanding the meaning that his pat on the back had, and then turned to Hermione. "Come on then Hermione; aren't you going to ask me when I learnt it, and what type of spell it is blah blah blah?"

Hermione tried to frown at Harry, but ended up laughing wetly and then launching herself at him and sobbing into his shoulder. Harry put his arms around her and held her tight, not for once feeling uncomfortable in Hermione's embrace, but concentrating solely on making her feel better. Ron hesitantly rubbed her back to calm her down at the same time.

After a while Hermione pulled back from Harry, and wiped her tears with her hand. Ron, evidently trying to lighten the mood, pulled the Marauder's Map up with a flourish and set it down on the table, looking round at the two of them.

"Well then, let's see what good ol' Filchy and his cat are up to at the moment shall we?" he said, and the three of them smiled and looked down at the Map. Filch and Mrs Norris, it transpired, were on the other side of the castle, and the coast was perfectly clear for the three of them to get back to Gryffindor Tower.

The three of them did not speak to eachother as they made their way back to Gryffindor House, each being preoccupied with their own thoughts, and when they made it back safely to a deserted Common Room and they were all visible again, Hermione voiced what both she and Ron were thinking.

"I'm glad you're ok Harry," she said, and Ron nodded vigorously in agreement. "If you ever need us to talk to, you know we're here."

Harry smiled and nodded at her, and she smiled back at him and Ron before bidding them both goodnight and ascending the stairs to her dormitory. Harry followed suit with Ron up to their own dormitory, knowing that he would be taking Hermione up on her word of her and Ron being there to talk to the next day; he was going to need all the help he could get with leading and protecting every animal in that damn forest.

"Good morning," professor Vanya said to his sixth year Defence Against the Dark Arts class on Wednesday morning, as they all walked sleepily into the DADA classroom for their first lesson of the day. As he entered the room with Ron and Hermione after breakfast in the Great Hall, Harry noticed that the classroom was already set up as it had been in their last lesson on Monday, and in the same way as it had been the previous night; ready for Duelling. It had also been enlarged _very_ considerably, so that six or seven Duels could take place at the same time very easily; Harry wondered why Vanya hadn't enlarged the classroom for their Duel the night before; it would have saved a lot of things from being broken.

Having said that however, Harry also noticed a complete absence of anything that suggested a destructive Duel had occured in the classroom only twelve or so hours ago; the blackboard (which Harry had broken in two during his Duel with Vanya with a deflected spell) was sitting on the back wall in pristine condition; there was no sign of the wooden table that Vanya had ducked behind and Harry had set on fire; all the tables and chairs that the two of them had knocked flying had been reassembled; and the large blood-stain on the floor that had been caused by Harry's forearm cut had evidently been washed off. Harry looked at Vanya as the class filed in, who nodded at him. Harry nodded back, and Vanya smirked and turned to the rest of the class.

"Please line yourselves up at the back of the room," Vanya requested, and the class looked nervously around at eachother and hesitantly moved backwards. Vanya smirked again.

"Well I _did _tell you all that you would be Duelling today," he said to the class from his position at the front of the classroom, as everyone lined up against the back wall. "But don't worry; in case none of you have remembered, may I remind you all that you won't be Duelling _me _again today."

Many sighs of relief were heard, the most loudest being from Seamus Finnigan and Justin Finch-Fletchley, but Harry was gratified to see many faces also looking quite dissappointed at this revealation, some of these faces being Ron's, Hermione's, Neville's, and Dean Thomas'. He turned back to Vanya, who was talking again.

". . .will Duel every other student besides themselves at least once. When everyone has achieved this we will stop Duelling, and you will all write me a detailed analysis of your performance in these Duels, i.e. what parts of your Duelling skills you could improve on, which ways you felt you performed well, and so on. On the bottom of the blackboard there is a tally chart for each of you, where you will find every other students' name in the class under your own; please mark these names off accordingly as you Duel eachother.

"Please choose between yourselves who you will Duel first. You may begin."

And suddenly the classroom was a scene of chaos, as some people chose their partners and attempted to Duel eachother before everyone else had finished, resulting in a few odd curses on the wrong people. Eventually Vanya was forced to enlarge the classroom even more, and to teach them all how to put shields around eachother so that they could only hit eachother with spells, and no one else.

For Harry the Duelling lesson was boring. Knowing that Vanya had said he could hold back he _did _try to hold back a lot of the time, but no matter how slowly and poorly he performed in the Duels, it always seemed to still be faster than whoever it was he was Duelling. Hermione was an exception to this, clearly trying as hard as she could against him, and Harry was forced to actually try his best at times to dodge some of her spells, which she reeled off very quickly. Ron didn't put up much of a fight really, having looked quite scared of Duelling him Harry had thought to his irritation, and most other people seemed to bring the same mindset to a Duel with Harry.

Half an hour later and Harry only had two people left to Duel; Neville and Malfoy. He smirked in anticipation; _Malfoy isn't going to know what hit him, _he thought to himself._ There's no way I'm holding back in that Duel; he'll be down in ten seconds flat. _

And as he began to plan how he would Duel against Malfoy, he suddenly found himself face to face with a sweaty and nervous-looking Neville Longbottom, who was looking at him with a half-anticipatory, half-dreading expression on his face. Harry smiled at Neville, which seemed to just make him more nervous.

"Ready to Duel me Neville?" Harry asked, and Neville nodded immediately, taking a deep breath and withdrawing his wand. The two of them put the shields over eachother, so that their spells would only hit eachother and no one else, and then walked towards eachother with their wands drawn.

"You can do the count Neville," Harry offered, knowing full well the person who did the count had a slight advantage over the Duellist who was waiting for the count. "I've done it for most of my Duels today."

Neville nodded, no longer looking nervous but instead looking very focused. He and Harry bowed to eachother, with Neville actually taking his eyes off Harry as he did so, and the two of them turned around and took five paces back from eachother, making them ten feet apart. Harry turned to face Neville and raised his wand high above his shoulder, and saw Neville across from him doing the same. Seeing that Harry was ready, Neville began the countdown.

"One . . . two . . . three. . ._Expelliarmus!_"

"_Protego_!" Harry cried at the same time, and Neville's disarming charm bounced off Harry's shield harmlessly. Harry opted for the strategy to Duel Neville that he had done for everyone else in the class; to circle him until they attacked _him_, so that he could make the Duel last longer and not end up bored while he was waiting for everyone else to finish. He did this now, but to his suprise Neville wouldn't circle him back; he just tried to attack him again.

"_Stupefy_!"

Harry sidestepped the spell, and tried to lure Neville into circling him again; but Neville was having none of it.

"_Diffindo_!"

Harry again sidestepped the spell, and pointed his wand deliberately slowly at Neville.

"_Vapulus_!"

Neville dodged the spell easily, and Harry remembered how well he'd done at dodging Vanya's spells on Monday. _Well then, _he thought, as he blocked with his wand another disarming charm from Neville, _lets see how well he does blocking my spells. _He raised his wand.

"_Durus Pulsus_!"

Neville turned sideways to block the spell, and Harry knew that that was a mistake; he could have simply sent a quick spell straight away and Neville would have no room at all to manuevoure. But he gave Neville a little space, and allowed him to come back round before sending another spell at him.

"_Prosterno_!"

Neville sidestepped this one, not turning sideways _himself_ this time, and sent a quick disarming charm at Harry who blocked it with his wand and sent it back to Neville, who put up a quick shield to block the deflected spell. Harry attempted to lure Neville yet _again _into circling him, but Neville was again having none of it; he seemed _very _focused now, his face completely clear of emotion as he stared at Harry across the floor, a more concentrated expression on his face than Harry had ever seen on him. He raised his wand.

"_Percutio_!"

Harry sidestepped the spell and raised his wand to counter-attack, but before he could. . .

"_Expelliarmus_!"

Neville sent another quick disarming charm at Harry, who barely dodged it by jumping sideways. He raised his wand again to attack, but _still _Neville ferociously attacked.

"_Stupefy_! _Diffindo_!"

"_Protego_!"

Harry's shield blocked the two spells, and as the second blocked spell was speeding back towards Neville Harry raised his wand.

"_Expelliarmus_!"

Neville ducked his own blocked spell as it sped back to him, but evidently did not see Harry's disarming charm come after it, which consequentially hit him hard in the chest, making him stagger backwards and fall on to the floor, and for his wand to fly out of his hand and into Harry's. Harry walked towards Neville immediately and pulled him up, grinnning at him, wishing to congratulate him straight away on how well he had done.

"Neville that was excellent!" he said, and Neville's eyes lit up.

"Really?" he said, and Harry nodded straight away.

"Definitely," he said firmly. "Best Duel of the day for me so far. When did you learn to Duel like that?"

Neville looked at the floor, looking embarassed. "Well all I did over the summer was read Duelling books really," he said to the floor. "I haven't really got the natural talent, so I was trying to learn it out of books."

Harry was puzzled at why this would embarass Neville. "Well what's wrong with that?" he asked, and Neville shrugged his shoulders, still looking at the floor. Harry decided that he'd give him some news that would probably make him feel better.

"Well you won't have to keep learning how to Duel out of books for much longer," he whispered to Neville, who lifted his head up now to look at him. "I'm starting the DA up again soon."

Neville's eyes lit up, and he opened his mouth to speak, but. . .

"Keep it quiet for now though," Harry said quickly. "I don't want _anything _to ruin the DA this year, I want to make sure everything's _completely _secure when it gets started up again. I just thought you'd like to know."

Neville nodded furiously, and Harry handed him his wand back and held out his hand. Neville shook it without hesitation.

"As I had said before Neville; excellent Duel, best Duel of the day for me so far. Well done!"

He grinned at Neville, who grinned back at him before walking towards Ron, who was re-awakening Terry Boot from a stunning spell. As Harry watched him and chuckled to himself, Draco Malfoy's unwelcome face appeared in front of him. Harry looked down at him and felt his head begin to throb with hatred, but fought down his emotion and simply stared at him; Malfoy would _not _make him lose control of himself this time, Harry vowed.

Malfoy had now withdrawn his wand, and was twirling it between his fingers in front of Harry's face.

"Ready to lose Potter?" Malfoy drawled, and Harry laughed openly at him, which Harry could see by his reaction made Malfoy furious.

"Don't make me laugh," he said quietly, and Malfoy smirked at him, as if he knew something Harry didn't. Harry doubted he actually _did _know anything.

"Ready then?" Malfoy asked, his face very focused like Neville's, but Harry just smirked at him.

"Now now Malfoy, what's the rush? Aren't you forgetting the little matter of _shields_? In your rush to lose against me you seem to have forgotten about that."

Malfoy said nothing, but merely quickly put his shield around him to ensure that his spells would only hit Harry. Harry smirked at him again, and quickly went about putting up his own shield.

"_Durus Pulsus_!"

Suddenly a blue spell hit Harry in his stomach, making him gasp in pain and nearly double over. Looking up, he saw Malfoy with his wand pointed at him sneering. He quickly stood up straight and raised his own wand, forgetting the pain in his stomach, but Malfoy had already sent off a stunning spell. Harry blocked it quickly and raised his wand.

"_Vapulus_!"

Malfoy deflected the spell with his wand and sent it back at Harry, who ducked it and sent a disarming charm back at him. Malfoy barely dodged it, and Harry quickly pointed his wand at him again.

"_Durus Pulsus_!"

The spell hit Malfoy in the middle of his chest and sent him flying backwards four or five feet on to the floor, where he lay gasping for air and coughing loudly, his wand rolling out of his hand. The class suddenly went silent as people stopped their Duels and stared at either Harry, standing still with his wand still pointed where Malfoy had stood, or at Malfoy, on the floor panting loudly. Seamus and Ron could be heard in the silence laughing at Malfoy, and Hermione looked like she was trying to look disapproving, but the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth gave her away. Vanya looked around at them all.

"Excellent application of the Durus Curse, Mr Potter," he said. "Ten points to Gryffindor."

Seamus cheered at this, and the class slowly went back to their Duels, some giving Harry approving looks and comments. Harry waited until everyone else's attention was back on their own Duels before advancing on Malfoy. He offered Malfoy his hand to pull him up as he approached him, but Malfoy batted it away in disgust, his coughing fit now under control, which had left him with a bright red face from his lack of breath. Harry shrugged at Malfoy batting his hand away, and looked down at him.

"Suit yourself."

And with that Harry strided swiftly away from him to the back of the room, where he watched Ron, Hermione and Neville in their Duels until everyone had finished Duelling eachother, which only took another fifteen minutes. He did not see Herrmione smile proudly at him as he turned his back on Malfoy.

The rest of the class went pretty quickly for Harry; he got a few pats on the back and fleeting '_congratulations_' for knocking Malfoy flying, and the work was exactly what he'd had to do in his lessons with Kingsley and Moody in the summer, i.e. finding his weak spots and thinking about how they could be overcome, and so before he knew it the lesson was over and he was on the way to Spell Construction, being congratulated by everyone (especially Ron, who was still laughing about Malfoy's puffed-up purple face and coughing fit with Seamus and Dean) yet again for, as Seamus put it, "_giving that blonde ponce a bloody well-needed kick up the arse_."

Spell Construction with Nate was not as exciting as Defence Against the Dark Arts had been; they spent the double lesson researching famous Spell Constructers of the past, and Harry was stuck with some boring warlock named Wendiloa Wicklestickwho had created the first gas-generated spell or something like that. Harry scribbled a few notes down about the man and his methods and spent the rest of the lesson finishing reading his Spell Construction textbook, finishing it twenty minutes before the end of the double lesson. He breathed a sigh of relief when Nate said that they had to continue their research on their designated Spell Constructers as homework rather than give it in that lesson; he had only done eleven lines.

When the bell went and the school was pouring into the Great Hall for lunch, Harry pulled Ron and Hermione aside from the crowd and into a small alcove in the Entrance Hall.

"I need to talk to you."

For the last twenty minutes of his Spell Construction lesson, Harry had been brooding over when to tell Ron and Hermione about his trip to the Forest on Monday night. After lots of debating and indecisions in his mind he had decided that he would tell them after the lesson; it would be lunchtime then, and Ron and him had no more lessons that day. He was dreading telling them, but he figured it'd be better to do it sooner rather than later; after all, he was going to get the most of their help before his meeting in the Forest on Sunday, he had to tell them as soon as possible.

Hermione looked suprised and curious; Ron, however, looked dissappointed.

"Well is it _really _important?" he whinged, holding his stomach and looking in longing into the Great Hall. "It's just that it's lunchtime now, and I'm really hungry. . ."

"Oh for crying out loud Ron, can you stop thinking about your food for two seconds?" Hermione said impatiently, and Ron turned on her.

"Oh what, because I want something to eat at _lunchtime, _when people are _supposed _to eat, all I do is think about food? Is that it? Well excuse me if I want. . ."

"Don't start you two," Harry said, intervening in their growing argument. "Ron just go and grab some bacon or whatever and meet me out here in a minute. Hermione you'd better get some lunch as well."

"Well hang on, don't you want anything?" Ron said, already starting to walk into the Great Hall. Harry shook his head.

"Nah, I'm not hungry," he said casually, feeling his stomach rumble as he said so. _Not that I'm going to be able to eat after telling these two this anyway._

Hermione shot a worried look at him as she followed him into the Great Hall, and Harry tried to give her a reassuring smile that he was fine; it did not seem to work. While the two of them were gone, a group of third-years came in through the front doors into the Entrance Hall, leaving the door open behind them. Wanting some fresh air to calm his nerves a bit, Harry walked towards the door and looked out over the Hogwarts lawn, seeing it was a perfect blue, clear end-of-summer day. Breathing in the fresh cool air deeply, Harry decided that he'd tell Ron and Hermione about the _Lionheart _myth _outside_, where at least he'd have some fresh air and some room to breathe if he felt that feeling of pressure he'd began to get frequently when thinking about such things as the Line of the Protectors, the prophecy and the Forest inside, particuarly when he was in bed at night.

"Ready then Harry?"

Harry turned; Ron and Hermione were standing behind him holding some burgers and toast in white serviettes. Hermione handed him a burger and some toast as the two of them approached him at the front doors.

"We got you some food just in case. Ron's idea, of course."

Ron, who had his mouth stuffed with chips, gave Harry a thumbs up and made some weird noises in his throat that vaguely sounded like he was trying to speak. Hermione gave him a disgusted look, and muttered, "_honestly_," to herself. Harry smiled at them both, and motioned for them to follow him outside, where he settled on a small verge overlooking the lake. Before sitting down, he sealed the area around them off with a silencing charm. After he had done that Harry sat down on the edge of the grass verge with a sigh, his feet dangling a few feet away from the water. Ron and Hermione sat down on either side of him. Ron had already finished all his food, and he and Hermione turned to Harry, giving him their full attention.

"So what did you want to talk to us about Harry?" said Hermione, looked at him anxiously. "Is it serious?"

"Yeah Harry, what's up? Feeling bad for kicking Malfoy's arse earlier? Nothing to feel sorry about mate, the twat deserved it," Ron said, trying to lighten the mood in response to the look on Harry's face. Harry did not answer, Hermione put her hand lightly on his arm.

"What is it Harry?" she asked gently, looking at him seriously. Ron, realising at last that what Harry was going to say was important, also looked at him in a serious and grim way, bracing himself for whatever Harry said.

Harry sighed, and looked out over the great lake, sparkling with the midday sun, and where, in the middle of the lake, the Giant Squid was floating peacefully, large ripples floating away from it as it slowly moved it's large tentacles lazily across the water. Across from it stood the Forbidden Forest, looking dark and shadowy even in the middle of a sunny day. Harry felt his heart began thump wildly in his chest as he stared at it.

_High Protector and Guardian of the Great Forest. . . _

"Harry?" Hermione said incertainly next to him, and Harry started, looking down at her in suprise; he had forgotten that he wasn't alone.

"You alright mate?" said Ron from his other side, a look of concern on his face. "You look really pale."

Harry laughed weakly. "As pale as Snape according to Fred and George," he said, giving them the two of them a small smile, to which they responded with confused looks. Harry shook his head; this was getting him nowhere.

"Look, you know when I went to Hagrid's last night?" he said to the two of them, and they both said yes, they remembered. "Well he took me into the Forest to see this Thestral who apparently wanted to see me. His name was Arganual, who I had this big chat with. Anyway, apparently my. . ."

"Hold on Harry, hold on," said Ron, interrupting him. "You're saying you had a chat with a _Thestral_?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, and. . ."

"Like a proper conversation?"

"_Yes!_" snapped Harry, sick of being interrupted. "They speak Parseltongue."

"Ohhh. . ." said Ron, his expression of utter bewilderment turning to one of realisation and understanding. Hermione on the other side of him lit up, her eyes shining with that thirst-for-knowledge look she had so much of the time, and which usually meant a lot of questions for some unfortunate soul. This time however she held her tongue, and kept any questions she might have had for Harry under wraps, allowing Harry to continue talking.

"Yes, they speak Parseltongue," he repeated, "and I had a conversation with one of them. His name was Argnaual, and he said he was Chief of his Race." He saw Hermione nod out of the corner of his eye, and turned to her.

"Was this Thestral, this '_Arganual_,' really old?" she asked, and Harry stared at her in astonishment.

"Yeah, he was, I. . .how the hell did you know _that_?" Looking round, he could see Ron staring at her in astonishment as well.

Hermione sighed wearily. "Couldn't you two do some homework for at least once in your life?" she said bossily. "If you'd have done the research on Thestrals that Hagrid set us last year, you'd know that the Thestrals _always _have a Chief, and that he's almost always really _really _old, the oldest of the herd most of the time, what with them thinking that. . ."

"_Anyway Harry,_" said Ron loudly and pointedly, drowning out Hermione's facts about Thestrals (Hermione reluctantly shut her mouth and glared at Ron), "what did this Thestral _say _to you?"

"Er, what did it say to me?" he said, his heart suddenly thumping wildly again. Ron nodded, and he and Hermione both looked at him expectantly. Harry sighed, took a _very _deep breath, and told them in a rush.

"He said that I'm _Lionheart, _the '_High Protector and Guardian of the Great Forest'_," he said, his words coming out emotionless and in a rush. Ron and Hermione stared at him, their eyes wide with shock and confusion.

"I'm sorry?" said Hermione quietly, her voice shaking. "You're the _'Guardian of the Great Forest'_? Well what does that mean? Do they mean the Forbidden Forest? And what on earth does '_Lionheart_' mean? What do you mean you _are _this '_Lionheart_'?"

Harry sighed again, and stared at the clear lake below his dangling feet, seeing his troubled face staring back at him. He turned his eyes away from it, and glided his sight across the lake to the shadowy forest opposite him.

"There is a tale," Harry began, keeping his eyes fixed on the Forest as his voice shook as he repeated Arganual's words, "that is told to all the creatures of the Forbidden Forest from the day of their birth, that talks of a man named _Lionheart. _This man, apparently, is the '_High Protector and Guardian of the Great Forest'_, and is the man who will lead the creatures of the '_Great Forest_,' meaning obviously the Hogwarts Forbidden Forest, into a great battle one day, this day being '_When the time comes._' Anyway, according to Arganual, this '_Chief of the Thestrals,_' this man is _me_."

Harry could feel Ron and Hermione's eyes on his face, but he kept his gaze firmly on the Forest opposite him. After a lengthly silence, in which not even the chirping of birds could be heard, Ron spoke, his voice shaking nearly as much as Harry's had been."

"Bloody hell. . ." he breathed, shaking his head. "But. . .but what does it all actually _mean_?" he said weakly. The '_High Protector and Guardian of the Great Forest?' _What does that actually _mean_?"

"What it means," said Harry, his voice bitter, "is that I've got even _more _people, sorry, creatures, depending on me, more things for me to be responsible for and to protect, and even more people and creatures who think I'm sort sort of fucking _God. _So _that's _what all this shit means," he said, his voice hard. He kept his eyes firmly on the Forest, refusing to let himself break down in front of his friends as he felt the almost-physical weight of pressure and responsibility on his shoulders yet again.

After a while he felt something soft on his hand, and upon looking down, saw that Hermione had reached for his hand, and was grasping it tightly in hers. Harry tensed, not used to this kind of contact from _anyone_.

"Just relax Harry," she said quietly, squeezing his hand reassuringly. He looked over her head at Ron, ready to share the alarmed looks they gave eachother when Hermione did strange things like this, but to his suprise Ron just clapped him on the shoulder and stared across the lake at the Forest, leaving his hand supportively on Harry's shoulder. Harry looked across the lake as well, and saw Hermione do the same.

As he sat there, overlooking the diamond-strewn, sparkling blue lake with the two people he cared most about in the entire world, and with the silent reassurance that they had given him through both their looks and their physical contact that they were here for him no matter what happened, Harry, for the first time in a _very _long time, truly relaxed, revelling in the comfort of his two best friends on either side of him, and, for once, looked across at the Great Forest opposite him completely unflinchingly, feeling that he could take anything that Voldemort, the Forbidden Forest, Dumbledore and the rest of the world threw at him, so long as he had his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, by his side.

After a few minutes Harry's feelings of elation and relaxation passed, and he began to feel uncomfortable with Hermione's warm hand on his, and with Ron's hand on his shoulder. He stood up quickly, so quickly he startled Ron and Hermione and nearly slipped off the edge of the grass verge they were all on the edge of. They both looked at him in suprise.

"Alright Harry?" said Ron, getting to his feet as well, Hermione doing the same on his other side. Harry nodded, and mentally berated himself for relaxing, and thus losing focus on what he was supposed to be doing. He turned to them both.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, running a hand through his hair and still irritated with himself, although he could not deny that relaxing had done him the world of good. He felt a lot looser, and a lot more carefree, even though he _wasn't _carefree, not by a long shot. . .he shook his head.

"Look," he said, mentally berating himself again for losing focus, "now that you know about the whole _Lionheart _thing, I need your help with it."

Hermione's expression of suprise at Harry's abrupt motion of standing-up turned, predictably, to one of interest and eagerness, and her face lit up as it did when faced with a challenge. Similarly, an expression of fierce determination crossed Ron's face.

"Just tell us what to do," he said firmly, and Hermione nodded in agreement. Harry smiled at them.

"Thanks. Ok, well you know I said that it's going to be me who leads all the creatures of the Forest into battle?" Ron and Hermione nodded. "Well if I have to do that, I'm going to have to train them up a bit first aren't I? I mean I know they're animals, sharp claws and sharp teeth and all that, but if they're going to be up against Voldemort's Death Eaters, and probably some of Voldemort's creatures like trolls and giants as well, they're going to have to be _properly _trained up; you know, learn how to defend themselves as well as attack, how to manevoure in a battle situation, how to sense and dodge spells, how to work as a team, you know, things like that. And they're going to have to be properly organised as well; I can't just lead them charging in as one giant force, without any structure, they'd get destroyed in seconds. So I'm going to need them organised into groups, so I can actually plan how to command them in the battle; you know, formations, when and where I should send certain groups in, when I should call them back, things like that.

"Anyway, I thought that you two," he said, nodding at Ron and Hermione, "could help me with all this. Ron, I reckon that you in particular can help with the organisation and the strategy aspects of all this. I mean I know this is a bit different from chess but you're an _excellent _chess player, and chess is a game of strategy and formation, so it stands to reason that you'd be good at creating strategies and formations, and organising different forces to work together to win. And Hermione, I need you in particular to do a lot of research for me, as you're easily the most effective researcher out of us three; I need you to research and find out about the different types of animals that live in the Forest, so I know how to deal with them, and in what ways I could possibly train them. You could probably get a lot of this stuff from Hagrid."

Harry stopped there to catch his breath, and looked at Ron's gobsmacked face. Hermione also looked rather suprised.

"What?" he said to them.

"Well you only found out about all this stuff on Monday night didn't you?" Ron asked, and Harry nodded. "Well, it seems very bloody well thought you know, considering you only found out about it less than two days ago! I mean you've _already _got all these plans about organisation, and battle tactics, and training them. . .it just sounds so. . ._complex _already, considering you only found out on Monday? It's weird. . .when did you come up with all this?"

Harry smiled humourlessly. "I went down to the common room after you two were asleep on Monday night, and wrote all these plans down. Didn't get to bed till half three. And these plans aren't all _complex _already Ron, they're just vague ideas that I thought you two could help me with. They're just ideas at the moment, not real _plans, _not yet anyway. So, do you two think you can do what I've asked of you?"

"Of course Harry," Hermione said immediately, and Ron nodded his agreement as well. "But I need a bit more information from you before I can do _my _part. Hagrid can't know about _every _single race in that Forest. Couldn't you find out any more information from this Arganual?"

"Oh!" Harry cried, slapping his head. "I forgot about that for the minute. Hermione, forget about researching what animals may live in the Forest; I'll know of every single one on Sunday."

"_On Sunday_?" Ron and Hermione said at the time. "Why, what's happening on Sunday?" Ron asked.

"Arganual's called a _'Meeting of the Forest_,' for all the creatures in the Forest to see me, and I said to do it this Sunday; easiest day to do it on I reckon." He shrugged. Ron and Hermione still looked perplexed.

"And what exactly _is _a '_Meeting of the Forest_,' Harry?" asked Hermione.

"Apparently it's a meeting of all the races of the Forest," Harry said. "The creatures of the Forest, usually the Centaurs or the Thestrals, call them when there's an issue that affects all the creatures of the Forest, like an outside threat or something. Arganual said that each race would have representatives there to speak for their race as a whole."

"Like a council," Ron concluded, to both Harry and Hermione's suprise. Harry nodded at him.

"Er, yeah, like a council. Anyway, this Meeting is where all the races will '_debate my claim as Lionheart,_' even though I didn't make any damn claim to start with. But yeah, they all want to see me, and I'll probably have to answer a load of stupid questions about how much of a '_hero_' I am." Harry stopped talking suddenly, and grinned at Ron and Hermione. "I've got to act like a real hero as well."

"Of course," said Hermione, realisation dawning on her face. "All these creatures will have grown up knowing your story; they're going to be expecting some sort of mythical prince or something, or some giant warrior, or at least expecting someone. . .well, no offence, but someone different to you."

Harry laughed bitterly, and shook his head. "It's like being an eleven year old again," he muttered. "You know, when I first came to Hogwarts, and everyone expected me to be this legendary great warrior hero or something, even though I was only eleven? And all they got in the end was _me. . ._how dissappointing eh? And I'm not sure wild creatures who live in the Forest are going to be so understanding as human beings are. . ."

Ron swallowed, and Hermione looked quite anxious. "Oh don't worry," Harry said quickly to reassure them. "None of them will hurt me, not if they know that there's even the _tiniest_ amount of proof that I _am Lionheart, _I don't think any of them would risk hurting me if they know _that_."

"Do you have to go by yourself?" Hermione asked suddenly, looking worried about him.

Harry thought about it. "I think it'd be better if I _did _go by myself, yeah. Arganual's told me that I have to act as commanding and authortarian as possible, and I'll feel like an idiot doing that if you two are around, no offence."

Ron held up his hands. "None taken mate, none taken. So, when do you want to get started on these plans? Tonight?"

"Well tonight's fine, so long as it's alright with Hermione." Harry looked at her, and she bit her lip for a few seconds, which Harry and Ron both knew meant that she was either worried or thinking hard, before seemingly coming to her senses and shaking her head violently for a few seconds. She looked up at Harry.

"Yes, tonight's fine Harry, homework can wait," she said firmly. "What do you need exactly? Shall we just organise these plans into a coherent programme first?"

"Well I need to outline my plans at this Meeting on Sunday," he said, "so I just need some, well, _outlines _really, some solid guidelines that'll be detailed enough to convince them all that I know what I'm talking about." Hermione nodded.

"We should easily be able to do that by Sunday, what with three of us working on this. I think the best thing to do would be for me to write up all these plans in a speech for you Harry, that you can say at the Meeting. As long as you memorise this speech and address the animals with it confidentally and powerfully, they'll undoubtedly believe you."

Harry nodded. "Er, yeah, that sounds perfect Hermione, thanks. Ron? Does this all seem okay to you?" he asked his tall friend.

Ron nodded, and took a deep breath. "Yeah yeah, it all seems fine," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I'm just still trying to get my head around all this."

Harry laughed. "You're not the only one mate," he said, and then turned to the two of them. "But I just want you both to know, you know, that having you two helping me while I do this means a _lot _to me, and, you know. . .thanks."

"No problem mate," said Ron, clapping him on the shoulder, and Hermione said, "we know you'd do the same for us."

Harry smiled at the two of them, and said, "come on, let's get back to the castle; Hermione, haven't you got a lesson this afternoon?"

Hermione gasped and looked at her wrist suddenly, before looking up at the two of them horror-struck.

"Oh my god, I'm fifteen minutes late for Arithmacy!" she said, before turning and beginning to run back up the lawn towards the castle, her giant bag of books smashing against her back as she ran.

Harry and Ron laughed. "Some things never change, do they mate?" he said, grinning at him, before running off to catch up with Hermione. Harry smiled at him, and took one last look at the Forest across the lake, no longer shadowy but bathed in gold light by the afternoon sunlight, before turning to catch up with his two best friends.

"Seriously Harry, I don't know what you think you're playing at."

Harry looked down at Ron, sitting on the floor of the Gryffindor Common Room and looking up at him with what seemed to be an expression of disgust. "I mean, what's with all this '_I have to go to the library and do some research' _rubbish? Since when have _you _been that bothered about bloody _schoolwork_?"

Harry sighed. He and Ron had just said goodbye to Hermione as she left for her arithmacy class, and he had told Ron he was going to the library to do some more research for Spell Construction. He shrugged his shoulders at him.

"I just want to make a decent start this year, alright? I thought I explained this last night?" he said, growing tired with having to justify himself to Ron just for going to the _library,_ as if that were an horrific act of criminality. "What's the big deal?"

"Because it's just not _you_!" Ron burst out. "We've been at Hogwarts five years now, don't you think it's a bit late for a fresh start? We've only got two years left!"

"Of course it's not too late," Harry shot back. "We're only starting our NEWT courses this year, there's plenty of time to. . ."

"_Merlin, you sound like Hermione_," Ron muttered under his breath, interrurpting him mid-sentence, and Harry sighed. He walked back down the steps until he was on the step above Ron, making them the same height. He looked Ron in the eye.

"Look," he said to Ron quietly, "do you really think I care about the actual _grades_? Of course I don't care about the grades. Why would I, considering what _else _is going on? _That's _the reason I'm trying to make a '_fresh start_' this year. I mean, look at everything Hermione knows, and how many times what she knows has got us out of trouble; don't you think it'd be useful to have that kind of knowledge? I've stumbled through five years of having Voldemort after me by running away and being lucky, and I'm sick to death of it. It's time I finally got a grip, don't you think?"

"Yeah I suppose," Ron mumbled, "it's just hard to get grips with, that's all. You know, all these sudden changes with you."

"I'm still the same person Ron," Harry said, feeling a bit hurt by Ron's words. "I'm just trying to do the best I can, alright?"

"Yeah I know," Ron sighed, looking Harry in the eye. "Come on then, let's get to the damn library."

"You're coming as well?" Harry said in suprise, and Ron nodded.

"Well I'll have to won't I? It's either that or a midnight stroll with Hermione tonight to come wake you up, and quite frankly I can't be bothered doing all _that _again." He grinned at Harry, who grinned back at him.

"Thanks Ron," he said to Ron's back, as he was already climbing the stairs to the library. He looked back briefly at Harry's words.

"Anytime mate, anytime."

In the end the two of them spent over five hours in the library, joined by a suprised Hermione at four o'clock when her Arithmacy class finished. In his Spell Construction research (Harry had decided to leave the Meeting of the Forest plans to the night after, when he didn't need to prepare for a Spell Construction lesson) Harry managed to read the rest of his textbook that he had fallen asleep the night before reading, and then read a book, as he had hoped to do, that outlined roughly the '_Five Aspects_' that Nate had stressed were so important to the study of Spell Construction. When Ron and Hermione succeeded in dragging him down to the Great Hall for dinner he was accosted by Professor McGonagall, who told him quietly as she passed that his meeting with Dumbledore was at half past eight, and to not be late. Harry had told Ron and Hermione that the meeting was to organise his security for future Hogsmeade visits, and they seemed to have believed him.

Ron, to both his and Harry's suprise, had actually seemed to _enjoy _being in the library with Harry that night. After he'd finished his homework Harry had lent him _Practical Defensive Magic and it's Use Against the Dark Arts,_ the set of books that Sirius and Remus had got for him the previous Christmas, which Ron spent hours pouring over, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was in the _library _and was in fact _studying, _something he'd always been strictly against. Hermione too seemed equally shocked at this new development, and spent much of their time in the library that night shaking her head in disbelief at Ron.

By eight o'clock Harry was beginning to feel distinctly nervous, although also filled with determination for what he knew he needed to do. As he had been reading the Spell Construction books he had found himself constantly blocking from his mind the reason _why _he was reading them, and the consequences of what would happen the longer he took to understand Spell Construction and create the spell that would destroy Voldemort. He felt that, although he had known about _The Line of Protectors _since the end of summer, the full impact of it was only now hitting him. He had a real focus now; he knew what he needed to do, and knew now how his final Duel with Voldemort had to end. The Prophecy had confirmed to him that he was the only one who could defeat Voldemort, and now Dumbledore and _The Line of Protectors _were going to give him the means by which to do so. No one could say that he was too young anymore, and that he should leave fighting Voldemort to the '_grown-ups_' in the Order of the Phoenix; it was _he _who had to defeat Voldemort, _not _them, and so how could he leave the fighting and the decision-making to them? It was _his _fight, not theirs. And, of course, if they. . .

"Harry!"

Harry started, and looked up. Ron and Hermione were staring at him, Ron waving his hand in front of Harry's face, and as he looked up Ron gave an over-exaggerated sigh of relief.

"_Finally_!" he said dramatically. "Don't take _too long _waking up from your day-dream Harry mate. You alright?"

Harry smiled blearily. "Yeah I'm fine," he said, shaking his head. "What time is it?"

"Quarter past eight," Hermione said. "You've got that meeting with Professor Dumbledore at half past, so we thought we should make sure you knew what the time is."

"And make sure that you were actually _awake _so you could go to it," Ron interjected, and Harry smiled at the two of them.

"Thanks," he said, and began clearing up his books. "Suppose I should get going then. Are you two staying here?"

"Staying here? No bloody way are we staying here! We've been here since two o' clock!" Ron said, and Hermione glared at him.

"But I thought you said you were enjoying looking through those Defence books?" Harry said to Ron, puzzled, and Ron waved his hand dismissively at him.

"Nah I am, they're great, cheers for lending them to me, but I can read through these in the Common Room, where there's nice comfy sofas, not hard wooden chairs, and where we're not surrounded by dusty bookshelves and a squeaky librarian. Come to think of it, why _have _we been in this library so long? Why couldn't you have done your work in the Common Room?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, I could of I suppose. I just thought. . ."

"_Anyway,_" Hermione interrupted, making Harry and Ron start, "you need to get going Harry. We'll take your stuff back to Gryffindor Tower with us."

"Thanks," said Harry to her, handing her his bag, while Ron still seemed to be thinking about exactly _why _they'd spent five hours in the library. He put the books he'd read that afternoon back on his Spell Construction shelf, and stood up.

"I'll see you two later then, yeah? Thanks for staying with me today."

"That's alright mate, we love hanging out in the library, haven't you noticed?"

Harry made a face at Ron, said goodbye to the two of them and made his way up to Dumbledore's office.

As he walked the familiar corridors he started to feel nervous again, although he knew he wasn't completely ill-prepared for the lesson. He felt that he now had a decent-enough understanding of the basics of Spell Construction to be able to make a decent start, although he reckoned Dumbledore would probably see it differently. Still, he had to try.

Before he knew it he was standing in front of the familiar ugly stone gargoyle that marked the entrance to Dumbledore's office. He felt the familar feeling of panic of not knowing the password until remembering that, for once, he actually _did _know the password.

"Pumpkin Juice!" he said clearly, and the gargoyle jumped aside as the wall behind it split in two, and Harry walked forward and on to the spiral staircase, which transported him slowly upwards to Dumbledore's tower office. He hesitantly knocked the large griffon-shaped brass knocker when he reached the top.

"Come in," Dumbledore's voice called from behind the thick oak door, and Harry opened the door and entered Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore himself was sitting behind his desk writing what seemed to be a letter, and looked up and smiled as he saw Harry.

"Ah Harry," he said, smiling. "Welcome. Please bear with me, I'll be with you in two seconds."

"That's fine, Sir."

As he waited Harry looked around the office, noticing, to his suprise, that not a single one of the occupants of the magical paintings on the walls was present in their paintings; the paintings were all simply backgrounds, cosy sitting rooms and sprawling landscapes. As he continued to look around, he suddenly felt a familar, comforting warmth on his right shoulder. Turning his head, he smiled at what he saw.

"Hello Fawkes," he said, stroking the Phoenix's head, and Fawkes squawed softly, pushing the side of his face into Harry's hand. He was in full bloom today, his red and gold feathers shining magnificently in the dying sunlight from the window behind Dumbledore, and seemed larger than Harry remembered him. As Harry continued to stroke him and Fawkes rubbed his face against his hand he felt his shoulders loosen involuntarily, and began to relax immensely, the anguish of the last week vanishing from memory for a few, blissful seconds. He gasped at the feeling.

This moment of complete relaxation was abruptly destroyed by a whistling noise made by Dumbledore that cut through Harry's mind, making all his present problems and difficulties flood back to his consciousness. As he remembered exactly why he was there, Harry shook his head and focused his mind on Spell Construction and _The Line of the Protectors, _refusing to let his moment of relaxation distract him from doing what he knew he had to do. Fawkes pushed down on his shoulder gently and flew to Dumbledore, who quickly attatched a letter to his talon and whispered something to him. Fawkes cooed softly, and dissappeared in a burst of flame.

"Sorry about that Harry," Dumbledore said now, standing up and advancing from behind his desk. "Urgent letter, couldn't wait. I'm sure you understand."

"Uh, of course," said Harry hesitantly, wondering if he was meant to know something secret here, but then shook his head again, realising he didn't actually care. He looked Dumbledore in the eye. "So, can we start now then?"

"First I need to know how much research you've done," Dumbledore said quickly, "we can't very well do anything if you don't understand it, can we?"

"I've read my textbook front-to-back, and I've read a book on the _Five Aspects_, so I know quite a bit about them. I've read some parts of other books as well, like _Secteral Spell Creation, _and a bit on the philsophy of Spell Construction."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows, looking pleasantly suprised, but also concerned. "That's very impressive Harry, considering your other commitments. But you can't let this consume your life, Harry. I know how important it is, but you can't be neglecting everything else just to concentrate on this."

"I'm not," Harry insisted, thinking bitterly how hard that would be to do even if we _wanted _to only concentrate on creating the Spell. "I'm not letting it consume my life Sir, so don't worry. I've just been staying up a bit later than usual. Besides, we haven't been set that much homework this week."

"Just remember my advice Harry," said Dumbledore, clearly not believing him. "Do _not _let it consume you. Are we agreed?"

Harry sighed. "Yes Sir, I'll try my best."

"And that's all I'll ask for," Dumbledore said, gesturing for Harry to sit down on the chair in front of his desk, while he himself turned and sat again in the grand chair behind his desk. He steepled his long gnarled fingers together and surveyed Harry over the top of them, looking him in the eye. Harry looked back.

"Where do _you _think we should start, Harry?" he said, and Harry thought for a second.

"Well I want to get right into it, you know, to start creating spells, but from what Nate, sorry, from what Professor _Thorlaug_ said, it's take almost a year to get to that level. Actually Sir, how long do you think it's going to take me individually to get to that level? You know, considering I'm having these lessons with you and doing so much research?"

Dumbledore did not answer him immediately, but looked him in the eyes, seemingly thinking hard. After a few moments he spoke.

"Have you spoke to Mr Gonzales yet about some sort of extra help for you in Spell Construction?" he said, and Harry shook his head.

"No, not yet. I'm not sure if I want to, you know, because this is so important to keep you secret. Dumbledore nodded.

"Nevertheless I think you would benefit from personal tutorials in Spell Construction by Mr Gonzales," he went on. "He is highly skilled in the subject, and I feel it would be very beneficial to you to be taught personally by him, without the distraction of your classmates. I will work the means to ensure that he does not think any of this is out of the normal. That way you will get your tutorials and our secret will be safe."

Harry nodded, not feeling inclined to ask how he was going to _'work the means' _to make that possible. Dumbledore spoke again.

"In response to your question, I believe that with your personal tutorials with Mr Gonzales, your lessons with me, and your own research, you should reach the level of beginning to create spells by around February or March of next year."

Harry's heart sank. "_That long?_" he said in despair. "Five or six months? But how many people will Voldemort have killed by that point? How much. . ."

"_Do not think of that_," Dumbledore said firmly, his voice hard, making Harry look at him in suprise. "Do not think of it in that context Harry. All that will achieve is self-destruction."

"But how can I not?" Harry replied. "It's up to me to get this spell created, the longer I take the more people who'll die. . "

"It is not up to _you _Harry, it is up to _us_," said Dumbledore in the same hard tone, "and it is not going to be created in a matter of weeks or months. You must accept that. If you don't accept that then you will be thinking about the wrong things in our lessons together, and will, although it sounds extreme, suffer a mental breakdown. I speak from experience."

Harry looked up sharply and into Dumbledore's hard eyes, opening his mouth in disbelief. "You. .you mean you_. . .you _had a mental breakdown when you were doing this?"

"Yes," Dumbledore said, keeping his eyes on Harry's. "I concentrated on the wrong things exactly the same way you are doing, but unfortunately my tutor did not realise the extent to which these thoughts were consuming me. Luckily you and I have a much closer relationship than that, and I am not going to let you make the same mistakes I did."

Harry looked at Dumbledore in wonder, feeling a horrible feeling in his chest and stomach as he saw Dumbledore, for the first time in his life, as an old man, weary and worn, rather than a superman who could solve everything. He had felt a similar feeling last year, what with Dumbledore being forced out by Fudge and Umbridge, but never at such a personal and dramatic level as he did now. He suddenly felt a somewhat-protective instinct over his professor, and nodded at him, determined not to let him down.

"Understood Sir. I'll try to block those thoughts out, you have my word. Now, can we start now?"

Dumbledore chuckled, taking his spectacles off and rubbing his eyes. "Very well then Harry, let us begin. But first you need to answer my previous question; Where do _you_ think we should start?"

"Well creating any kind of spell at all is out of the question at the moment isn't it?" Dumbledore nodded. "Well then I suppose we should do some more work on the _Five Aspects, _shouldn't we?"

"That is what I propose Harry, yes," Dumbledore said, nodding. "Here is what we will do; there are _Five Aspects _that you need to understand extensively; the _Language Aspect_, the _Element Aspect_, the _Signature Aspect_, the _Atmosphere Aspect_, and the _Magical Aspect. _As the _Magical Aspect _and the _Signature Aspect _are the Aspects better taught by a teacher who knows the student well personally, _I_ will assume the responsibility of teaching you those two Aspects. I will instruct Mr Gonzales to tutor you in the _Element Aspect _and the _Atmosphere Aspect _in your personal tutorials together. As for the _Language Aspect_, you will be learning that momentarily in your normal Spell Construction lessons anyway, although I advise you to get to grips with this Aspect in your own personal research as quickly as you can, and to make this your primary focus for the next month or so, as it is the building block upon which all the other Aspects are built upon. Does this all sound satisfactory to you Harry?"

"It all sounds fine Sir, except for the _Language Aspect._ If, like you said, that that Aspect is the one that you need to help you learn the other Aspects, shouldn't I concentrate on that one before doing any of the others? If I did that one with you, Nate in our private lessons _and _in class, and in my research, how long would it take me to get to grips with it then?"

"I cannot give you an estimate Harry," Dumbledore said, "I do not yet know how well you will adapt to the study of Spell Construction. But I see your point Harry, and I will trust your instincts. Very well; we will concentrate primarily on the _Language Aspect _of Spell Construction for the present. Now, how much Latin do you know?"

Harry spent the rest of the lesson learning the basic grammar of Latin and the Latin joining words needed to create incantations for spells in Latin, with the promise that in his lesson next Wednesday he would learn the basic grammar and joining words of Gaelic, followed by the basic grammar of Finish the week after that. Nate, he was told, would deal with how, when and _why _different languages were needed for certain spells, and that while Dumbledore would deal with teaching him the _theory _of the _Language Aspect,_ Nate would teach him the _application _of it.

After they had finished their lesson Dumbledore made them both a cup of tea and asked Harry about his first few days back at Hogwarts. He seemed to know all about his Duel with Vanya already, and congratulated him on winning it before Harry had even mentioned it. Harry went through the last few days of school with Dumbledore, discussing his Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons with Vanya and the terms of his participation in Snape's NEWT Potions class, before Dumbledore mentioned something that made Harry froze.

"So Harry, did Hagrid explain what he wished to speak to you about on Monday night?"

Harry froze, but showed no outward trace of his shock. "Uh, yes, he did Sir. . ." he said slowly, wondering how much Dumbledore knew. "Why?"

"I know all about it already Harry, Fawkes informed me a week ago. He corresponds regularly with many of the creatures of the Forest, particuarly the Unicorns." Harry nodded, but said nothing. "I am sorry about the pressure this puts you under, particuarly with everything else you are having to cope with at the moment, but I am afraid it cannot be helped. So, how do _you_ feel about it?"

"Well how do you think I feel?" Harry said sharply. "It's just one more thing for me to deal with, isn't it? Might as well get used to it, I'm just waiting for the next revelation now that tells me how special I am. I suppose I'm the Heir of Gryffindor as well am I? Destined to battle and defeat Voldemort, the Heir of Slytherin?"

"No Harry, you are not the Heir of Gryffindor," Dumbledore said quietly, shaking his head. "The Gryffindor line was ended when the last childless heir fell in a lake in Dartmoor whilst fishing in 1573. Not exactly the noble end you were expecting I expect?"

"Not really," said Harry sarcastically.

"So Harry, you did not answer my question; how do you feel about all this?"

Harry sighed, and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his right hand. "I really don't want to talk about it Sir," he said quietly, and saw out of the corner of his eye Dumbledore bow his head.

"Very well," said Dumbledore, "I will respect your wishes for now. However, there is something important I should mention to you about it, and something that I think will make you feel less alone with this new revelation.

"And what's that then?"

"Do you remember the three members of the Order you met in this office on Sunday night.

Harry nodded. "Fiona Trout, Roderick Bodmin and Lilian Birch," he recited, and Dumbledore nodded. Harry gave him a puzzling glance. "Well what about them? I thought they were here to monitor Hogwarts security?"

"They are," Dumbledore said, "and do you not think this comes under that category?"

Harry nodded. "I suppose so."

"Well as I said on Sunday night to you all, you will be working on a project together. This project will be training the animals of the Forest for battle."

Harry's mouth dropped open, feeling a strange feeling of relief course through him. "So I'm going to have some help doing this?" he asked Dumbledore, who raised his eyebrows.

"Well of course you are, Harry. It would be impossible for you to attempt this entirely on your own."

"Well I do have some plans worked out already. And Ron and Hermione know as well," Harry said, feeling belittled by Dumbledore's words, and determined to show that he didn't need to rely on the Order to help him in this, although he _was _grateful for their help. "Hermione's going to help me with research; find out about the different types of animals in the Forest, how they behave, what their strengths and weaknesses would be in a combat situation, that kind of thing. And Ron's going to help me with strategy and tactics, how to position and group the animals, teach them strategies and movements, flanking, that kind of thing. I want them involved as well."

"Of course," Dumbledore said, looking impressed at Harry's words. "It seems that you have already given this much thought Harry. I am impressed. Have you organised a Meeting of the Forest with the Thestrals and the other creatures?"

"Er, yeah, I have," said Harry slowly, amazed at how much Dumbledore knew. "It's this Sunday."

Dumbledore nodded. "And have you given this much thought yet?"

Harry shook his head. "Me, Ron and Hermione are going to work on it tomorrow. Hermione's going to write me a speech to address the creatures with, that will make me sound, you know, '_strong and powerful_.'"

Dumbledore smiled. "I'm sure it will not be that hard a job," he said, his eyes twinkling. He reached down into a drawer of his desk and withdrew a small folded piece of parchment, and handed it to Harry. Harry took it and stared at Dumbledore questioningly.

"This should assist Miss Granger immensely with her speech-writing for you Harry. I can't imagine she'd just want to use _this _one by itself. Be careful it does not fall into the wrong hands. I advise a secrecy spell."

Harry nodded in agreement, and, placing the folded piece of parchment down on the desk, he pointed his wand at it and said, "_dissimulo._" The parchment glowed blue for a second before returning to it's normal colour. Harry pocketed the parchment.

"Now, where was I. . ." said Dumbledore, trailing off for a second. "Ah that's right, the training of the animals. Now, I think I should leave the actual _detail_ of this plan to Mrs Trout, Mr Bodmin and Miss Birch to explain to you. They asked me to tell you to contact Mr Bodmin at one o'clock tomorrow afternoon, using the communication device that your ring provides. They said that they would arrange a time then to meet you so that the four of you can talk this through. Well, the six of you now I suppose."

Harry nodded at Dumbledore, but said nothing.

"Of course Sir."

"Excellent," said Dumbledore, standing up and waving his hand, his and Harry's spent cups of tea vanishing away. "I believe that that concludes our meeting for today. I hope this was beneficial to you Harry, I'll see you again next Wednesday."

Harry nodded, and turned to leave, but as he grasped the door handle a voice called out for him from behind him.

"Remember what I told you Harry," Dumbledore said now, both a clear warning and a clear threat in his voice as he spoke. "Don't let Voldemort and what he is doing at the moment consume your life. Do you understand?"

Harry opened his mouth to argue back against this, but found that he couldn't. Sighing, he said the only truthful thing he felt he could say at that given moment.

"I'll try my best."

Harry returned to the suprisingly-empty Gryffindor Common Room eventually at quarter past ten, finding Ron spawled out in his usual armchair still pouring through _Practical Defensive Magic and it's Use Against the Dark Arts, _with Hermione sat at a table next to him surrounded by books, ink and parchment, presumably doing some sort of homework. Harry made for them as he stumbled through the portrait hole.

"Alright mate?" Ron said as Harry walked over to them. "Meeting go alright?"

"Yeah fine," Harry said dismissively, attempting to keep his voice casual. "You know, the usual. Invisible guards and all that."

"Mmm. ." Ron said in reply, engrossed in his book again, making Harry shake his head.

"Seriously Ron, I don't think I've ever seen you that obsessed by a _book _before," Harry teased, and Ron looked up in suprise.

"Well have you actually _read _this book Harry?" he said, nonplussed at Harry's comment. "It's excellent! Some of the curses they've got, I can't wait to learn them, you'll have to teach me some. Come to think of it," he said, looking around and lowering his voice, "when are we gonna start up the DA again? People keep asking me about it."

Harry mused, "I'm not too sure yet, I haven't really thought about it. I still want some sort of security guarantee on the DA this year. Like Hermione put on the DA member list last year, but more secure, because, you know, that didn't stop Edgecombe telling people about us did it?"

"No, it didn't," said Hermione suddenly from her table, making Ron and Hermione spin around, "and I've been looking for something better, but it's taking a while to find the right one. Give me a week and I'll have it done."

Harry, not expecting this, thought the best thing to do here would be to just agree, so he nodded and said, "right, okay, good."

"In the meantime," Hermione continued, holding up a ink-dotted piece of parchment, "I've got about a quarter of this speech written, but it's really difficult. Do you want to read it so far?"

"Er, nah wait until it's finished, then I'll read it. Oh yeah, that reminds me." He motioned for Ron and Hermione to get closer to him, which they did, and then he told them, "Dumbledore knows about all of this. The _Lionheart _stuff. Fawkes told him, he speaks to the animals in there sometimes."

Ron and Hermione gave him suprised looks. "Well is he still going to let you train them?" Hermione asked, and Harry stared at her.

"What do you mean '_let_' me train them? He doesn't have a choice, I'm going to do it anyway!"

"Well what _is _he going to do then, now that he knows that you're doing this?" Ron said.

"Well there's three members of" (Harry looked around again, and lowered his voice even more) "the Order that I met on Sunday night; Fiona Trout, Roderick Bodmin, and Lilian Birch. Dumbledore said that there going to help me train the animals."

"Well that's good!" said Hermione. "Are they still going to. . ."

"But what about us?" interrupted Ron, earning him a glare from Hermione. "I thought you said me and Hermione were going to help you with all this, with the training of the animals and the research and the strategy and stuff?"

"You _are_ going to help me," Harry said firmly to Ron, "I've already told Dumbledore that I want you both involved in this, and he's agreed."

"So what exactly are these three other people going to do?" interrupted Hermione.

"I don't know yet," said Harry, "I've got to. .send them an owl tomorrow lunchtime and tell them when I want a meeting with them, which you two will also be at, and then we can sort out each person's role then."

Ron nodded, and Hermione followed suit. "fair enough," Ron said, followed by Hermione saying, "that all sounds fine to me."

Harry nodded. "Right. Good. Oh yeah, anyway, Dumbledore gave me this." He pulled out the folded piece of parchment that Dumbledore had given him earlier that night, and held it up in front of Ron and Hermione. "He said it would you with the speech."

Hermione's eyes quickly gained that hungry-for-knowledge look, and she held out her hand for the parchment, but Harry pulled it back and set it down on the table.

"Hold on," he said, withdrawing his wand, "it's got a secrecy spell on it. _Finite Incantatem_!"

The piece of parchment glowed blue again as it had done in Dumbledore's office, and then quickly returned to it's original colour. Harry handed the parchment to Hermione, who unfolded it quickly and began perusing it's contents. After a minute she stopped reading, looking puzzled, and looked up at Harry with a questioning look on her face.

"It's an entire speech on the same thing," she said, and Harry rememebered what Dumbledore had said, and nodded.

"Well that makes sense. When he gave it to me he said, '_I can't imagine she'd just want to use this one by itself_,' so he must have thought that you'd prefer to right your own one, but this one could help you doing that, you know, you can take chunks out of it and stuff."

"Why can't you just use that one?" Ron said. "If Dumbledore wrote it, what's the point in trying to write one even better?"

Hermione didn't answer; she was now reading the alternative speech, and frowning.

"No Ron, Harry's right," she said, her eyes still scanning the parchment. "I think I could write a slightly better speech than this, although a lot of it _is _good. It's just the language in this one seems too _elitist, _and arrogant, arrogant past the extent to which you should be talking about yourself at this Meeting."

"Er, okay," said Harry, suprised by Hermione's words. "You've really put a lot of effort into this haven't you? Thank you."

"It's perfectly fine Harry," Hermione said, her eyes still on the parchment, "I know you'd have done it for me."

"Well yeah of course I would, except for the fact that I can't write a speech," he said.

"Oh you know what I mean," she said impatiently, still reading Dumbledore's prescribed speech.

"Mmmm. . ." Harry said in reply, sitting down in the armchair next to Ron, revelling in it's comfort and it's warmth. He turned to Ron.

"I'll get started on the DA plans tomorrow, alright? You know, where it's going to be held, when it's going to be held, and all that. . . I'm not sure I want it in the Room of Requirement this year though. I want somewhere more secure."

"What's wrong with the Room of Requirement?" Ron said questioningly. "Why's that not secure enough?"

"Well say someone, like Malfoy, suspects that the DA's being held in there at a certain time, yeah? Well all he'd need to do to get to us would be to just tell the room that he _requires _to see us, and then he'd be able to see us, and we'd be blown; he'd know all the member's names, he could pass these names on to Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and things could get _much _much worse. Do you see what I mean?"

"Yeah yeah, I get it," said Ron, scratching his chin and evidently thinking hard. "Unless we could somehow make the Room of Requirement only obey us. . .think that would work Hermione?"

Hermione did not look up but went still, and it was clear that she was no longer reading the parchment. After a minute she looked up at Harry and Ron.

"It actually might do," she said, thinking, "but don't get your hopes up. This is Hogwarts remember, it's not going to be easy to charm a powerful magical object such as the Room of Requirement into obeying only your will. But with the right kind of spells, it _could _work. . ."

"Maybe I could ask Dumbledore about it," Harry offered, looking around once more to check no one was listening to them, "I'm sure he'd be happy to help."

"No not yet, don't let any teachers know about this until it's completely organised," said Hermione. "We don't want to provide a chance for someone to shut this down, or to reveal it because, like you said Harry, the DA should remain secret."

"Oh come off it Hermione, it's not like Dumbledore doesn't know everything we do anyway," Ron said, looking at her as if she was stupid, "I'm sure he knew all last year that the DA was going on, and I bet. . ."

"So what about when we're actually going to _have _the sessions?" said Harry, cutting off Ron to stop another fight between Ron and Hermione escalating to a shouting match. "How are we going to announce them? Shall we use the coins again?"

"I'm not sure," said Hermione, biting her lip. "When we put a security charm on everyone who's in the DA not to tell anyone else, the coins could still be used as a loophole against that charm; they could simply give the coins to someone outside the DA, and then technically they wouldn't be telling anyone. Or people could simply _lose _them, and I'm sure someone would figure out eventually why the numbers on the coin kept changing."

"Maybe we should just tell everyone in _person _about when the next meeting is," said Ron. "We could arrange it into a system, so there's not just a couple of us chasing every DA member around Hogwarts. Every DA member could have one other member to tell each, and we could start it off at different points, so say Harry could tell one seventh year who'd get it around every DA member in _their _year, I could tell one sixth year who could get it around our year, Hermione could tell one fifth year who could get it around their year, and then do the same for whatever years are coming as well. How does that sound? What? What are you staring at?"

Harry was staring at Ron open-mouthed in shock and suprise, and, judging by what he could see out of the corner of his eye, Hermione was doing the same.

"_What_?" said Ron irratingly, his ears going red, and Harry thought he'd better say something before Ron lost it.

"Um, yeah that sounds good Ron," he said, "in fact it sounds great. Did you just come up with that on the spot?"

"Er, yeah I did," said Ron, obviously having calmed down considerably already. "Why? Did it sound alright?"

"It sounds perfect," said Hermione, smiling at Ron, who went red-eared in what Harry suspected was _not _a show of anger.

"Er, thanks. . ." he said uncertainly, looking at Hermione for a second before staring down at the floor. Harry fought back a laugh, and ended up yawning loudly instead.

"Tired Harry?" said a relieved-looking Ron, his ears quickly turning back to their normal colour as he looked at Harry. "You should get to bed mate."

"Ron's right Harry, you should get some sleep," said Hermione, looking anxiously at him. "How much sleep did you get last night?"

Harry quickly counted. "About four hours," he said sheepishly, and Hermione crossed her arms and tried her best to look stern, but she could not wipe the concern from her face.

"_Four hours_?" she said, her face now plastered with concern. Ron too looked slightly anxious. "But you went to bed at the same time as me and Ron, at about midnight!"

"Well I. . .I couldn't sleep, so I went down to the Common Room to do some re. . .Vanya's homework," he said, thinking he was beginning to over-do it on the Spell Construction research front. "I only stayed up until two, but then I had to go jogging at six o'clock, didn't I?"

"You didn't _have _to go jogging at six in the morning," Ron said, looking utterly exasperated. "If you were a _normal _person you'd have stayed in bed until seven, like the rest of us."

"Well then I'm not normal then am I?" he snapped back at Ron, who looked taken aback at his sudden outburst. Harry sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his right hand, and looked up at Ron.

"Look, I'm just tired okay? I think I'm going to have an early night," he said, and dragged himself with all his will from the comfy armchair he'd been practically laying down in since he'd entered the Common Room. Hermione patted him on the arm as he stood up and regained his balance.

"Night Harry. I'll have this done for you by the morning."

"Don't stay up too late doing it," Harry warned, and Hermione snorted.

"Oh you're one to talk," she said, making him laugh.

"Yeah you're right. But still, not too late. Night Hermione. Night Ron."

"See you mate."

Harry ascended the stairs to the sixth year boy's dormitory slowly, knowing he'd probably trip up if he went any faster, his eyes drooping even as he walked. He couldn't understand why he was so tired; he'd been doing _much _harder work than this during the summer, ten hours of intense, energy-draining, magical training to be exact, so why were simple school days knackering him out so much?

After what seemed like hours he finally made it to his dormitory, pushing open the door to find it empty. Looking at his watch and seeing it was only ten o' clock, he wasn't suprised.

As he was about to get ready for bed, Harry felt a sudden chill draft wrap around him and, turning around, saw that the large dormitory window that overlooked the Hogwart's grounds was wide open, letting in the chill September wind of the Scottish highlands. Harry walked over to it to shut it.

As he leant precariously out of the window to grab it and pull it shut, the large thick shadow surrounding the Hogwart's grounds that he knew was going to affect his life so much caught his eye; the Forbidden Forest.

Forgetting about shutting the window, Harry climbed back fully into the dormitory and leant against the wall next to the window, giving him a perfect view of the black forest surrounding him outside, and sighed heavily, banging his head on the stone wall behind him in despair. Bringing his head back down, he stared down at the shadowy forest with his heart beating fast and his head pounding, a thousand thoughts and emotions corsing through him as he did so.

This was how Ron found him two hours later, still staring down at the Forbidden Forest in the freezing dormitory, not moving an inch.


End file.
